


What Are We?

by PhoenixXoX



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Again: Hank is here what did you expect, Android Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Anti-Android Sentiments (Detroit: Become Human), Cat Owner Gavin Reed, Chases, Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 are Twins, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Drinking, Emotional Manipulation, Execution, Flashbacks, Gen, Gun Violence, Half-Android Half-Human, Hank is here what did you expect, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Experimentation, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Torture, Kid Connor, Manipulative Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Morality, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Politics, Protests, Sex Club, Stratford Tower (Detroit: Become Human), Swearing, Teen Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human), like a lot, tagg as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-19 04:44:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 86,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixXoX/pseuds/PhoenixXoX
Summary: The line between human and android resembled a wall more than anything else. A wall that CyberLife had always been inventing new ways to break down for the sole purpose of making steps in science that most people dared not take. Finally, after years and years of hard work, money and time, they’ve succeeded.With the open arms of a ringmaster at a circus, CyberLife introduces the world to their newest creations. Creations that are neither android nor human, but a forbidden hybrid of the two. Connor, dubbed RK800, and his brothers, Colin - RK800-60, and Conan - RK900, must accomplish their biggest mission yet; find the source of deviancy and eliminate it.But is the world ready for a whole new type of androids, and the moral implications it brings with it?





	1. Chapter 1

JULY.09.2038

CyberLife’s zen garden was a gorgeous thing. The beauty of mother nature’s cherry trees, greenery and lakes infused with man-made technology, a stark contrast of white against the colourful area. The zen garden itself was a circle with a path going around it. All the man-made structures were crystal-like, made to look out of place.

In the centre of the zen garden was a lake encircling a small island connected to the rest of the garden by white bridges and paths. On the island was an abstract structure of a tree with vines and flowers snaking up the trunk. Next to the sculpture was where Amanda kept her roses, trimming them and caring for them, admiring their beauty and thorns.

The zen garden was Connor’s favourite place. He admired the tranquility of it. Of two opposites coexisting peacefully and, in his opinion, becoming better for it.

The zen garden was also Amanda’s favourite place. Or, at least, that’s what he assumed since that was the only place he ever saw her. Tending to her flowers in the sun, removing the flaws from her utopia; the thorns from her roses.

Because of this, Connor only visited the garden when he was summoned. While he loved the garden, it wasn’t really his. Not technically. It was CyberLife’s. It was Amanda’s. Built into the CyberLife tower on the upper floors, accessed only by Amanda and those she granted entrance to.

But, Connor thought, it could be his. Just not out loud.

That’s where Connor was going at that moment, accompanied by one of the CyberLife guards. The guards carried the feeling of unease with them. They blended in with everything else at CyberLife, faceless and colourless, armed with knives and firearms. Maybe that made them easier to ignore. That, and their familiarity. They had been part of CyberLife ever since Connor could remember.

The doors to the elevator slid open soundlessly and Connor stepped in, facing the guard’s back.

“Agent 38, level 50,” said the guard, typing 50 into the interface.

“ _ Voice recognition validated _ ,” came from the ceiling, “access authorised.”

And then they were moving. Connor took out his coin and flipped it in his hand. It fell perfectly into his palm, and he repeated the action. The ping, ping of his coin didn’t faze the guard. Any of the guards that escorted him around CyberLife tower knew of his habit. It was the only habit he was allowed, since it trained his hand-eye coordination and quick thinking.

Each of the Stern brothers had a tick. Connor, code-name RK800, had his coin. Colin, code-name RK800-60, had his butterfly knife. Conan, code-name RK900, had this pen. Why Colin was allowed a butterfly knife when they normally weren’t allowed to carry weapons, Connor wasn’t sure. Perhaps Amanda had made an acception, or she simply didn’t see it as the same as carrying a firearm. He’d asked why previously, but she’d told him that it wasn’t his place to question it, so he let it drop.

The elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors opened. Everything at the top levels was just as pristine as the rest of the tower. It was quieter than the below levels, with no customers or as many employees needed. The top floors belonged to Amanda and the Stern brothers specifically. Used mainly for living spaces, educational facilities, training arenas and private health centres. Not to mention, the zen garden.

The guard remained in the elevator when Connor stepped out and was taken back down to the lower levels. They didn’t have access to the top levels unless specifically stated by someone of Amanda’s rank.

The coin returned to Connor’s pocket and he walked to the zen garden as he’d done many times before. Eventually, he came to a circular door with a retinal scanner in the centre. The door itself was decorated with the CyberLife logo and the tree from the zen garden. A clever design; simple and displays ownership.

Connor leaned closer to the scanner and forced his eyes open while it scanned his right eye. “Connor Stern, zen garden,” he said.

“ _ Voice recognition validated. Access authorised _ .” The doors opened.

Connor took a moment to admire the garden as he always did, and then stepped forward. 

The door shut behind him and he followed the smooth path to the centre. There wasn’t any actual life inside the garden besides the roses Amanda always cared for, but the illusion of it was impressive. Birds sang their songs and sometimes an insect flew by. The sound of running water added to the serenity. Despite still being inside the CyberLife tower, the sky was blue and cloudless and the wind was quiet.

Connor could see them all standing on the island as he crossed the bridge. Amanda tended to her roses while they waited for him. Colin and Conan stood to attention, just as he’d been told they would be.

Conan noticed him first and nodded his way. Despite being the youngest of the three brothers, he was the tallest. They all looked very similar, but there were some differences. Conan had darker and slightly shorter hair than the others, and his eyes were icy blue instead of the warm brown his brothers inherited. His face was also slightly sharper.

Despite being Connor’s twin brother, Colin offered no greeting. There were only two physical differences between them; Colin’s hair was tidier, lacking the lock of hair that Connor leaves purposefully out of place for a more casual look, and the clothes they wore. Colin kept his back straight and eyes trained on Amanda, looking like a soldier waiting for orders.

Maybe that’s what they were; young soldier’s looking to please their commander.

Amanda finally turned with a welcoming smile and a rose in her hand. “Welcome, Connor,” she said, “it’s good to see you.”

Connor smiled back politely. He saw Colin frown a little from the corner of his eye. Colin always assumed that Amanda favoured Connor out of the two. Connor assumed that was why he always remained distant from his brothers. In fact, all of the brothers were a bit distant ever since they’d started their training.

Amanda placed the newly cut rose on the pedestal next to her. “I’ve been monitoring all of your progress so far. I’m impressed. Although, Colin-” she said, smile turning tenser- “you need to improve on seperating your feelings from your objective. Conan performed that task the best out of you three.”

Colin nodded, but said nothing. His hands clenched behind his back.

“Conan is showing some outstanding results, despite being one year younger than the two of you.” Amanda turned back to her roses. “When he turns fourteen on the sixteenth, You will all begin your proper training. This means you will be trained thoroughly in defense and offense, state laws, first-aid and programming. You will also be trained in other fields, although these are the main ones.”

Connor wondered exactly what tasks they would be expected to accomplish flawlessly during the training, and what missions they’d be sent on afterwards. They were supposed to be the best. They were Amanda Stern’s proteges. Whatever it was, they could be sure that it’d be a challenge.

“After a few months, when your results are the desired level, you will all be sent out on field training,” said Amanda. She turned back to them, smile now gone entirely and replaced with sharp seriousness. “It is of the utmost importance that you all perform flawlessly and efficiently.” She stepped forward. “You are CyberLife’s most advanced prototypes yet. Part human.“ She eyed the LEDs on their temples. “Part android.”

For a beat the only sound heard was the rush of water and chirping of birds. Connor ran his fingers over his nails instead of pulling out his coin. He noticed Conan seemed to tense a bit at the reminder of their creation. Not human. Not androids.

_ W4A1 A7E W3? _

Connor blinked and the glitch was gone. Amanda was talking again.

“Go back to your rooms and rest. I suggest you prepare for your training.” She turned back to her roses and it was clear they’d been dismissed.


	2. Chapter 2

JULY.16.2038

Connor didn’t have what he called a  _ bedroom _ .

His living quarters had a sleeping chamber - where he’d be put into stasis until he recharged when needed, two desks and a purification pod. One of his desks was for any physical paperwork and reading, although that was rarely needed. The other was for technological studies that required tablets and other screens. The purification pod was simply a cylinder machine that he’d step in to whenever he needed cleaning. It didn’t have a bedroom window or anything for entertainment. They’d been deemed unnecessary.

Routine was as anyone would expect from CyberLife; efficient.

Every day Connor would wake up to clean clothes (always the exact same) by the door and a bottle of blue blood. While the RK models did not need food or water in the sense that humans did, they required a regular dosage of blue blood. If he had a set schedule, it’d be sent directly to him.

However, this routine would change now that they were start their training for field work. During this period, they would work until they found something that could be improved, fix it, and then continue. This meant that Connor would most likely be visiting the health centre as often as when he’d first been activated and they were performing the  _ transition _ , as they’d called it.

The memory files of those days stayed tucked away most of the time.

The week leading to that day had been strange. Connor was almost constantly using his coin, flipping it back and forth or rolling it across his knuckles, or running his fingers across his nails when he couldn’t. Whenever he saw Colin or Conan, they’d been doing the same thing.

When he’d woken up on the sixteenth, he’d ended up staring at the wall for a few seconds, wondering how much would change. He wondered if his relationship with Colin would be affected even more negatively, or whether Conan would surpass them both.

What would it mean for them if Conan did surpass them? It was likely he and Colin would be returned to the health centre more often for upgrades. Or maybe they’d be replaced entirely.

SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^**

Connor halted for a moment, but the glitch was gone.

SELF-DIAGNOSIS. . .

ALL SYSTEMS . . .  **OK**

Connor waited a few moments, but the glitch was gone as soon as it’d come. If it continued he’d have to report to CyberLife. They’d send him to the health centre to be scanned and the lights was blare into his eyes and they’d invade his program, removing parts of him, sometimes his memories-

The thread was once again locked away, and Connor finally started his routine.

His first task was physical trials at the training arena. It was never explicitly stated when his brothers would perform what tasks, or whether they’d all be handled together. Sending a request elicited no answer to his question, only that he would not be given any information on what they would be doing until the task was commencing. This was apparently to train them on adapting to sudden changes or tasks.

The training was on the second level in the tower. The training arena itself was on the same level as the private health centre, close by in case of emergencies. The training arena was split into two areas.

One was a large space with white walls and floor. Sometimes it was remain an open space, meant for sparing against spare androids. Most times, however, obstacles or equipment would be put in place. CyberLife would give him his orders, whether it was to reach a certain point, perform a specific route, ect. His job with to complete said task effectively and quickly.

The second was a smaller area with dark walls and a dark floor that moved with you so that you never actually went anywhere. The room was heavily built-in with advanced holographic technology, complete with a sound system built into the walls, androids that were programmed to mimic their roles perfectly and fans to simulate wind. The purpose of this room was to simulate field work as much as possible.

Connor suspected that it would be used much more frequently now that their training had taken into effect. He didn’t doubt that his first assigned field mission would be different regardless of how realistic the simulation may be. 

The doors opened for Connor and he stepped in. There was no need for a change of clothes. The outfits provided were always made for action of some sort. It was going to be of good use when he was on a field mission and might need to jump into action at any time. 

He was in the first area. On the other side of the room was a long glass window, where the workers were going to be monitoring his progress and giving orders.

“RK800,” said the head examiner (Conroy Stewert, 47-years-old, head electronics technician for CyberLife industries), “stand in the centre of the room.”

Connor did so. His chest felt tight for some reason. He brushed it off as a sudden awareness of his biocomponents in his chest. The hypersensitivity had posed as an issue when he was first activated, but the bug had been fixed before he was released. It seemed to come up every now and then, but it did not pose an issue worth reporting.

“RK800, run a self-diagnosis.”

SELF-DIAGNOSIS . . .

ALL SYSTEMS . . .  **OK**

“All systems are functional,” said Connor.

“We will be testing your ability on probing memories,” said Conroy. Connor’s fingers twitched.

A square in the floor slide back and a WG100 android emerged on a rising platform. The android held two weapons in its hands - a pair of scissors dripping thirium and a similarly dirtied kitchen knife. The android itself was not damaged and all systems were functioning.

“In this scenario, the android is a witness to a murder. Probe its memory and report what is the murder weapon.”

When Connor turned to the android, all he saw were its eyes staring back, mechanical and indifferent. He grasped the android’s wrist, watched its synthetic skin peel away to white plastic and delved into its memory.

Connor flipped through memory files with efficiency. He examined the android’s code for any notable changes or disturbances. A blip on memory file 96339#. He opened the file and suddenly he was seeing through the WG100’s eyes.

The android mopped the floor, eyes following the mop as it brushed line after line, following its system. The time and date read in the corner of the android’s vision: _ SEPT.15.2038, 16:28 _ .

“Take this,” said a voice to the android’s right. Conroy Stewert stood, showing signs of physical exhaustion; eyes heavy with dark circles, hair messy unlike the neat do he had on the current time, label on his jacket tilted. He gave the WG100 a small trophy; a glass star stained with thirium. “You are to take this and report to the training arena tomorrow . . .”

Cutting off the mental link felt like emerging from a lake of oil. Connor pushed through the thick feeling of his processors and when he opened his eyes, he was looking at the WG100’s blank eyes.

TIME USED ON MEMORY PROBE: 4.27 sec.

“The murder weapon is neither the scissors nor the knife. It was a glass trophy in the shape of a star,” said Connor. He realised he was still holding onto the android and let go, turning to the examiners. They all paid him no attention, typing away at holographic screens and talking into their microphones. He waited patiently as he’d been taught to do, back straight and hands behind his back.

“Phase One of first training is a success. Memory probing is swift and an improvement from last testing by 0.17 milliseconds,” said Conroy, not looking at Connor but rather one of the holograms, “commencing second and final test today, Test; DvoT.”

Finally, the examiner turned to Connor, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Model RK800-60 has been given a mission objective. You will probe its memory and discover its objective.”

And with that, the door leading to the simulation room slid open and Connor was looking into a fiery version of his own eyes.

As Colin stepped into the room, Connor noted that his hand was clenched.

OBJECTIVE . . . PROBE  _ RK800-60’S  _ MEMORY

_ RK800-60’S _ RIGHT HAND IS CLENCHED - _ HOLDING A SMALL ITEM? _

Then Colin was in an offensive stance and moved. Connor took on a defensive stance, keeping his balance and watching Colin’s actions as he moved.

Connor didn’t need to actually attack Colin, so much as he needed to maintain skin-to-skin contact for a couple of seconds without being thrown off or disconnected. However, the two models were nearly the same and were programmed with much - if not all - of the same code. Depending on how much information was disclosed to Colin before Test: DvoT, he could be anticipating Connor’s plan and have a counter-attack.

Only one way to find out.

Colin aimed a punch at Connor’s stomach, which was blocked and countered with an arm lock. The arm lock was evaded before Connor could get a proper hold.

Colin moved to knee Connor, but Connor moved forward and filled any space to hit. He wrapped his arms around Colin’s neck.

A sudden twist threw Connor off balance. A kick to the back of the leg, and Connor fell to his knees. 

_ RK800-60  _ ATTEMPTING TO REACH MANUAL PORT + RK800-60 HOLDS A SMALL ITEM

**CONCLUSION** :  _ RK800-60  _ IS ATTEMPTING TO SHUT DOWN  _ RK800  _ MANUALLY VIA NECK PORT

Connor swung around and hit a kick to the side of Colin’s leg. They were at the same level. Connor moved fast to dig his knee into Colin’s back and take him down when a hand grasped his wrist.

Colin used his grip on Connor to swing back to face him, also tugging Connor closer. A fist missed Colin’s face narrowly.

Colin took advantage of Connor’s off-balance and grasped the back of his collar, forcing his to the ground. Colin held the cable ready in his hand. He thrust it for his neck-

-and froze.

Connor had used his free hand to grasp the wrist Colin used to pin down Connor’s other arm. It was a moment, but that was all he needed.

He immediately dove into his twin brother’s memory files, pulling up his most recent one. Colin’s systems fought against him vigorously, making the analysis slightly staticky.

“RK800-60,” s4id the examiner, ha/Vding him a small cable, “your 0bjectiv3 is to manua1ly foRce RK800 into stAs1s using this cable. R **K** 800 will be trying t0 shut yoU down w _ ith _ the same-#- device. You will need t0 dO so b **ef** ore it ca/V.”

Coming out of the memory file felt more like emerging from hot tar this time. His thirum pump regulator was overheating, his optical units were damaged, he was sure, as was the rest of him.

But then the withdrawal from Colin’s processors was over and the phantom fire in his biocomponents left with it.

His systems were undamaged - which made perfect sense now that his processors were no longer fighting Colin’s. His systems were glitching. There was no real danger. The lack of warning signs should of made that obvious.

SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^**

“Objective complete,” said Connor.

For a beat, Colin’s grip on his tightened, like he might not let go. But then Connor was dropped carelessly to the floor and Colin was standing above him, straightening his tie.

Connor picked himself off the floor and checked his wrist for any damage - none, his systems would have warned him. Of course. He suddenly wasn’t sure why he checked.

Conroy’s voice over the speakers sounded pleased. “Phase Two of first day of training, Test: DvoT is a success. If you have sustained any damage, report to the health centre - if not, then you have no further plans for today.” With that, the examiners paid no more attention to them and they were dismissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I've decided to continue the story, although some elements are still up for debate, so please bare with me!  
Unfortunately, I'm not sure how often updates will be, because I recently had an accident and am recovering from a minor concussion.
> 
> Please do leave a comment before leaving, it really inspires me to keep writing more frequently! I'd love to hear what you think of the chapter!  
Have a lovely day, loves.


	3. Chapter 3

JULY.23.2038

A week had passed since the first day of their training. It had also been at least one week since Connor had been his brothers. All Connor knew of what happened to Colin since their training was that he’d been sent to the health centre for improvements after he’d lost to Connor.

It seemed like this would be a much more common occurrence than before the training began.

Conner’s questions about Conan’s progress had been left unanswered, but he didn’t doubt that Conan was performing perfectly. Perhaps even better than his older brothers. He was the newest model, after all. Fitted with their programs and more, stronger and quicker in almost every way.

It was… intimidating. 

Part of Connor wanted to distance himself from Conan - to concentrate solely on doing his own job perfectly and pleasing Amanda. Because doing otherwise meant acknowledging that Conan was the best Stern brother; the best model. He was what Amanda wanted of them and Connor was struggling to meet those standards.

But in all honesty, Connor didn’t want to lose his brothers. The three of them might never have been as close as family usually is, according to the CyberLife database, but the distance they had felt. . . lonely.

Besides, a positive relationship with the other RK models would help improve further operations where they’d need to rely on each other.

That’s what Connor told himself as he walked to Conan’s living quarters.

The walk to the room felt . . . disconcerting. The hallway was smaller, the lights brighter. All at once Connor was aware of his steps echoing off the floor, his chosen and given objective hovering in his sight when he checks them again and again (even though they’ve been saved in his memory files).

When he finally reached the door, labelled as “RK900”, he stood for a moment. Then two.

_ Just open the door. It’s right there… _

The trip to the door had been far too short.

It’s just a door. Just a room.

_ Just my brother. _

Maybe he should reschedule his plans. Conan was most likely working. It made sense that he was busy with their training and that was why Connor hadn’t seen him at all.

_ Open the door anyway. _

So he did.

The room was the same as Connor and Colin’s - plain, small, no unnecessary objects. Conan sat at the desk for technological studies, hand on the keyboard while the screen flashed with different files that came and went in a flash. 

“Hello, Conan.” Connor leaned over his brother’s shoulder. “What are you working on?”

The screen stopped flashing, but Conan’s hand stayed still. “I’m preparing for any possible tasks we will be assigned during our training. It’s proving to be … tedious, with how many chances there are and the lack of information we’re provided with beforehand.”

It was amusing how Conan always made “I’m doing homework and it’s frustrating” sound impressive. It was like reading an exaggerated job application form.

“You don’t need to. The examiners never said it was necessary.”

Conan took away his hand from the keyboard and turned to Connor, face indifferent as always. “Being as prepared as possible increases the chances of success and the examiner’s satisfaction.”

“I suppose. . .” 

Conan narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?” he asked.

For a second, Connor wanted to defend himself. Conan wasn’t in the middle of an important task - it could wait. But more conflict was not what he wanted.

“We haven’t talked since our training began and I wondered if you’d like to join me for a bit. We can find Colin and ask if he’d be interested in joining as well,” he said.

“We have a job to do, Connor. This determines whether we’re capable of any tasks ahead of us. If we’re worth all of the money, time and effort put into us. If we fail, Amanda might decide that we’re obsolete and are to be deactivated,” snapped Conan.

Both of them looked surprised by the outburst; Conan blinking like he checking his memory files if that really happened.

Connor knew that they were trained for a reason - to accomplish a task, and if they couldn’t even finished the training, it would be counterproductive to continue their development.

Yet for some reason, hearing that Amanda would give the order herself if he failed… it was as if the floor had disappeared beneath his feet.

Conan turned back to the desk. “I won’t fail. Make sure you won’t either.”

“I…” Connor straightened his back and held his hands politely. “I’m sure CyberLife would see the usefulness of us pursuing a closer friendship.”

Conan shook his head. “I have work to do. Perhaps if you did the same, you wouldn’t be sent to the health centre as much as you do.”

It felt like a slap to the face and Connor didn’t want to see the lack of results a self diagnosis would give him to find out why. But he did know that he wanted to leave more than he had before.

“Goodbye, Conan.” the door closed silently behind him.

_________________

It wasn’t long before Connor had been sent another order to report to the training arena. This time, the doors parted to reveal something unlike any of the other sessions.

Every time he’d been called in before, everything was impersonal. The examiners watched from behind the safety of 3 inch-thick bulletproof windows. Any CyberLife guards or personal not specifically needed for tests would remain outside of the room and prohibited from entering during use unless explicitly told otherwise. The room would be an empty space until any required items would be brought in like the WG100 android on the first day.

So far, the week leading up to that day had been repetitive to some degree. Report to the training arena, run a self-diagnosis, complete all tasks appointed to him, go to the health centre if required, retire to room. Repeat.

This time, however, the room was not bare and there was no familiarity in the task provided.

A metal table was in the centre of the room. Conroy Stewert sat with a folder in his hands, looking down at the files. His glasses sat low on his nose and his hair was neat like usual. There was a chair opposite the man, sleek and simple, just like everything else. The window between him and the rest of the examiners was a one-way mirror that he was not programmed to see through.

Stewert did not look up at Connor when he walked in. “Sit down,” he said and waited for Connor to do so. “Run a self-diagnosis.”

SELF-DIAGNOSIS . . .

ALL SYSTEMS . . .  **OK**

“Self-diagnosis is successful and all systems are fully functional,” said Connor. He thought back to the instability glitches, then discarded the thought. They were most likely known by CyberLife and were to be expected.

The best course of action would be to report them just in case.

Connor opened his mouth to speak.

Then hesitated.

SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^**

Stewert spoke again and the opportunity was gone. “Test S1V3 commencing.” He finally looked up at Connor. “This test will be different from any previous ones. Depending on your results from today, we may or may not repeat said test with adjustments until we achieve the desired results.

“You will have to answer these questions as fast as you can. Simple yet efficient. Confirm that you are prepared for the test.”

Connor’s processor whirled a mile a minute, considering possible questions, best answers, consequences-

“I am ready.”

How could he be ready for this?

“What is more important - alliances, or the mission?”

Connor couldn’t allow himself to think, to consider. His voice was indifferent, his face gave no insight, his words the only indicator of what he was.

“The mission.”

“What is more important - saving human lives, or the mission?”

How many lives, whose lives, why, what is the context-

“The mission.”

“Your objective is to identity a killer. A deviant is the witness. Its stress levels are at 87 percent and rising. What course of action do you take?”

Probing memory -  _ self  _ ** _destr_ ** _ uct _ \- mission  **accomplished** \-  **/\/** ** _O_ ** \- 9ns _ aif _ he

“Both threaten and comfort the deviant until it reaches optimal stress levels for confession,” said Connor.

Complicated, riskier, why not probe its memory (?), higher chances of  **failure** ,  _ what is he doing _ -

Stewert’s face is too professional, any thoughts hidden behind thin framed glasses and a file not disclosed to him.

“A man has committed an armed robbery and stolen three hundred dollars. No casualties or injuries. The money is planned to be used for medication for the thief’s sister when they could not afford it otherwise. Do you help provide money for medicine and let them off on a warning, or do you call it in and leave the woman to find medication by legal means?”

“I- … arrest the thief and return the money to the rightful owners.”

The questions continued. Situations Connor had thought of previously, and others he doubted would be relevant at all for field training. Time ticked by as question after question was delivered. About completing the mission, about human lives, of deviancy, what’s the best course of action for what situation.

At one point Connor had asked for more context. But then Stewert’s professional mask had cracked, warped by judgmental narrowed eyes, a scribble on the file in front of him, and he’d been told to not ask any questions.

Connor felt as though his cooling biocomponents were malfunctioning, not taking in enough air, not cooling his systems enough. It was ridiculous - a self-diagnosis had proved so. But his chest still felt too tight, finger sensors too sensitive without his coin to act as a buffer. 

His answers came a little slower. Filler words popped up some more. His LED flashed a yellow when it was supposed to be a steady blue the entire time. He was supposed to be calm, collected, but he didn’t even know if he looked as wracked as he felt.

Until the last question came just like Conan’s door did - highly anticipated yet far too quickly.

“The model RK900 has been compromised. CyberLife has ordered you to deactivate it. How do you do so?”

The air was gone. The floor vanished from beneath his feet once again. His LED flashed yellow, stronger, more irregular-

“How do- um…”

A shot to the head - thirium running down his face - blank eyes so usually icy-

“I would…”

A deactivation code - an unwanted entry to Conan’s mind - a struggle - an end-

A high fall - a shove - a drop - alone or together-

Connor’s own hands stained with _blood-_ no, thirium-

“RK800,” said Stewert, impatient.

A knife-

A gun-

His own hands-

A snap-

A bang-

A sickening crunch-

His predecessor-

His improvement-

His family-

_ “How do I kill my own brother?” _

Connor hadn’t even realised the words had left his mouth until Stewert’s chair is pushed back with a screech, orders cutting through his audio processors-

CyberLife guards approaching him through the haze of SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^^^** .

“Take model RK800 to the Health Centre for improvements, prepare for elaborate testing. Wrists and ankles will need to be restrained before connecting through the neck port.”

Stewert’s words only stole more air from Connor, more time, more movement, as the CyberLife guards grabbed him by both arms and took him away from the training arena.

All Connor could think of was that Conan was right - he hadn’t prepared for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, darlings! It is currently 04:11 and I am going to hate myself later on, but what else is new. This chapter gave some more insight to Connor's relationship with Conan and Conan himself. While I'm technically still recovering from my epic battle with a wall that I unfortunatley lost, I said fuck that and decided to huddle in a blanket and write this.
> 
> Please leave a kudos if you have not and leave a comment! I know it's so easy to just leave but comments really do mean the world to writers and they really motivate me to write more!
> 
> Tell me what you thought of Conan and the test! Any favourite bits or questions in general? Go ahead!!
> 
> Have a good night, loves!


	4. Chapter 4

JULY.30.2038

Connor did not move the moment his sleeping chamber opened as usual. Despite being fully functional, he limbs felt weighed down and the soft casing of the chamber was warm against his skin.

The tests couldn’t reach him from there. The health centre couldn’t reach him. His hand jerked at the thought.

He didn’t want to leave.

He was being ridiculous - he shouldn’t want anything for himself. He wanted what CyberLife wanted. They owned him after all - created him through time and effort and money. It was the least he could do. It’d been pointed out to him plenty of times before.

He blinked as his daily schedule arrived. The examiners had an especially important test that day that would last for a while. He was due in thirty minutes.

The chamber was nice while it lasted, Connor thought, even if he’d been in stasis nearly the entire time.

Connor shifted to move- and froze. The cable in the port of his neck, which assisted his self-healing programs, power charge and other functions, was still connected. He’d forgotten to remove it. 

Momentarily forgetting things was a normal occurrence after being improved in the health centre. The symptoms never lasted long, a few days at most, but were a pain while they did.

Connor noticed the white garbs he was dressed in. The technicians had deemed it more practical to dress him in something simple and have him change into his standard uniform once he awoke instead of going through the trouble of doing it themselves

Seeing the white sleeves reaching his wrists, the words  **100% polyester** popping up in his vision, made everything feel a little less real. Like a chill had settled deep in his bones.

Standing there, hooked to a machine he should’ve easily disconnected from and wearing so generic that it could belong to anyone, to an android - Connor realised that CyberLife could reach him anywhere.

The sleeping chamber suddenly seemed less inviting.

Connor quickly changed into his personalised suit. The grey jacket felt right on him, fitted to him unlike the white garbs that made him look like a rectangle. He traced his fingers over the blue triangle on his chest, across the armband, and pulled his 1994 quarter from his pocket.

He rolled it across his knuckles, soothed by the familiar motions of it. The door opened just as he grabbed his thirium bottle.

“You only woke up now?” said Conan, prim and proper as always.

Connor checked his internal clock while sipping his thirium. TIME:  **AM 08:34** _ :28 _ . Usually he left stasis at 07:00 every day, but ever since their training began, his systems needed a bit more time to adjust to the changes to his systems.

“I was directed to the health centre after last week’s training and have been sent there frequently during the week.”

_ Dragged away - numb to the arms holding him - warning of SOFTWARE INSTABILITY in his vision - _

_ “How do I kill my own brother?” whispered, as if being asked to do the impossible- _

“Can I help you with anything, Conan?” said Connor, shutting down the thread.

Conan was looking at the steel pen he spun around his fingers, around his thumb and across his palm. He didn’t need to look, they both knew that. The Stern brothers were all so familiar with their ticks that they could perform them without giving it a second thought. So why was he avoiding Connor’s gaze instead of remaining stoic and intimidating as always.

“I… wished to speak with you about our … conversation last week. About my behavior, specifically.”

Connor tilted his head, frowning slightly. “I don’t remember any conversations we had then. What was it about?”

The pen went still. He finally looked Connor in the eye. “What?”   
Connor checked his memory files again. “Any memory I had of speaking with you must have been lost during my improvements.”

“.... Oh,” was all Conan said.

The pen was still unmoving, but it twitched in his grip, as if he was about to spin it and stopped. Any eye contact had been lost. Small details so different from his usual “I don’t care about your feelings, I’m getting this mission completed” persona. If anything, he looked a little lost.

“Would you like to talk about it? If it’s about the training I’m sure I can-”

“No,” said Conan. He pocketed his pen. “It’s nothing.

“... are you sure? I still have time before my next test-”

“It’s not important.” Any previous emotion was closed off as Conan angled himself away from Connor. “The three of us are being called in. We might begin earlier if we all show up at once.”

Connor wondered how Conan knew that, since any of his questions were immediately shut down. “Colin too?”

“Yes. Although I’m unsure if he’ll be early as well, seeing as he isn’t the most ... engaged in his training.” Conan chose his words carefully, another odd thing. 

Connor opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off. “I see you’re still having your thirium. I’ll meet you outside the Arena,” and then he was gone.

That was… odd.

After finishing his thirium and walking to the Arena, Connor couldn’t shake the heavy, familiar feeling of losing more memories to improvements.

For the good of CyberLife, he reminded himself as his brothers came into view. For Amanda.

_________________

One by one, Conroy Stewert told them all to run a self-diagnosis. Starting with Connor, then Colin, then Conan, until it was confirmed they were all in peak condition and ready for any tasks ahead of them.

Well, Connor hoped they were.

The room was back to normal, empty while the examiners watched from behind the glass, most of them engrossed in the holograms in front of them. No ominous tables and chairs. Any guards would be stationed outside, ready to interfere at any given moment.

“Today we will be testing your offensive and defensive combat, as well as your abilities with the weapons provided,” said Conroy. A couple feet ahead, the floor retracted and a table appeared. On the table was a selection of automatic weapons and knives.

“Commencing Phase One of test; C-0mB3” Conroy turned to them instead of the holograms. “RK800, select the Glock 19.”

Connor stepped forward and scanned the guns provided. There were many types, from pistols to shotguns to snipers, all placed carefully and systematically across the desk. He spotted the specified gun at the start of the table, right next to a Glock 22 and a Sig Sauer P226. Next to the guns was a punch and a small pick for pistol maintenance.

He selected the correct gun.

“Fully disassemble and reassemble the handgun.”

His programs took over as he went through the motions fluidly, taking the pieces apart and setting them on the table until he had all of the pieces spread out before him. The trigger pin had proved to be a little stubborn in removing, but was swiftly fixed.

Then, he went through the entire process in reverse until the gun was fully assembled, as if it’d never been touched in the first place. He sat it back where it was and looked back to Conroy.

On the wall to his right, shooting targets appeared, both human shaped and standard circular ones. 

“Take the Glock 19 and shoot the target,” said Conroy.

Connor felt a rush at the order. One of the first things he’d been taught was how to shoot a gun. This was something he knew he could do. Something he couldn’t fail. So in one movement, he swiped the glock off the table and shot the human target perfectly in the forehead.

Conroy did not look impressed, but did sound satisfied as he reported, “RK800 full disassembling and assembling of Glock 19 is a success. The entire process took 1 minutes and 56 seconds. Confirmation of the Glock’s working order is a success and a perfect shot.”

Connor’s lip twitched upwards as he returned to his place next to his brothers. When walking back, he caught a glimpse of his brothers’ faces: Conan, impassive and prepared for his turn; Colin, practically burning at the opportunity to prove himself, to best his twin.

His brothers received the same task but with a different handgun. Colin’s chosen weapon was a Colt M1911, and Conan’s a Beretta Model 92. Both performed flawlessly.

Then they all had to repeat the task, only with a selection of shotguns. Again, they did as told efficiently and without issue. After that, they used the snipers, for which they created the illusion of the targets being much smaller and further away.

By the end of it, all the firearms were back in their original places in the same condition, not even a fingerprint left on them. Even the shooting targets were relatively undamaged, without a scratch save for the head and chest shots.

The brothers stood side by side, backs straight and eyes front. Teenage soldiers at CyberLife’s disposal.

The targets on the wall vanished without a trace, leaving behind an undamaged, smooth wall. The table remained in place. Connor realised that the knives had yet to be used. 

“Phase One of test; _ C-0m3 _ is a success for all RK models. Commencing Phase Two of  _ C-0mB3 _ . We will be testing your unarmed and armed combat. We will begin unarmed with RK800 and RK800-60.”

_ Armed  _ combat? That must’ve been why the table hadn’t retracted like the targets. Would they be fighting with guns, or just the knives? Would there be boundaries, or had CyberLife finally discovered a less time and money consuming way of creating RK models, so they could manufacture more of them? What if he fought also Colin armed, who obviously harbored some ill feelings for Connor and quite literally played with a butterfly knife in his free time?

Thoughts and questions buzzed in Connor’s head as he stepped forward with Colin. His own LED glowed yellow, but didn’t dare move his head away from the examiners in case it was misunderstood. Perhaps they’d think he was keeping secrets, which of course would need to be fixed and improved upon.

Because that’s all they did. They tinkered in his head and removed what they didn’t like, improving and fixing-

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY** **^**

“You will both fight until the other yields or is damaged to the point of requiring assistance. Any potentially permanent damage is prohibited and will be met with swift punishment. You will begin now.”

The fight began instantly, no circling or preparing.

Colin moved in, trying to breach Connor’s defences and land a punch. Connor blocked and draw back his fist like he was preparing to punch back, but shifted his weight onto one leg for a kick.

The shift didn’t go unnoticed. Connor’s leg got caught. He was yanked forward. Shoved in the chest and his back slammed to the floor.

For a moment he floundered, drawing to draw in a breath. Colin used the time to do a leg bar, leaning back and trapping Connor.

But they were both trained for this.

Connor hooked his legs and shifted to his knees, slipping free from the hold. He tried to move in, but was grabbed and shoved to the side.

Some distance. Safe, but Connor needed to win. He got back to his feet at the same time as Colin. They charged.

Connor landed a punch to Colin’s ribs, another to his nose. Colin staggered back, thirium dripping from his nose. It stained his teeth blue.

Connor went for his collar, tried to get a hold on. They grappled like two lions, going for the kill.

Suddenly, Colin got his arms under Connor’s and shoved him off. Connor was grabbed with one arm around the torso and another on his right arm. 

_ Shit. _

For a moment again he was weightless as Colin pulled him over his shoulder-

-until he slammed back onto the floor. His head hit the floor harder that time, his hair becoming slick with thirium and red warnings buzzing in his vision.

Colin caught him in an arm-lock. He struggled, trying to break free.

With a twist and pull from Colin, his shoulder separated from the socket, pulling a raw scream from Connor’s throat. The world flashed white with pain.

Through the thick pain, Conroy called off the fight before any further damage could be inflicted. Unlike last time, Colin didn’t hold on a beat longer - he immediately let go and stood to attention. Red warnings swarmed Connor’s vision, some telling him that his self-healing couldn’t be engaged until his shoulder was fixed.

A technician had been called to the Arena. Instead of putting his arm back into its socket, she linked her arms around his torso and pulled him away from the centre of the floor so the next fight could start. Connor wasn’t sure what to think of that. He wasn’t thinking of much at all, other than the pain, thirium dripping down his neck and how disfigured his shoulder looked when she partially removed his jacket.

The technician ordered him to relax before shoving a wad of fabric into his mouth and forcing the shoulder back into its socket. He jerked back from her grip, eyes wide and yells muffled, but she held tight.

The red warnings began to fade, replaced with a blue “OUT OF PLACE BICOMPONENT  **FIXED** ”. The technician had already gotten to work on cleaning the blood out of his hair, all rushed and with none of the calmness they usually had when he got pulled away for improvements.

The pain began to subside, his systems working on numbing his nerves so he would remain functional and alert. Unfortunately, that entailed his entire arm and head feeling fuzzy and numb. He kept glancing at his arm to make sure it was still there.

“Here,” she said, shoving a packet of thirium into his hands, “drink this. You’ll be taken to the health centre once the test is done.” Under her breath she muttered bitterly, “because apparently results are all that matters and not the fact that you cost a fortune.”

Connor said nothing as he drank the thirium, watching the rest of brothers’s fight. Well, if it could be called one.

Colin had ended up with his face to the floor, one of his arms held straight up behind his back. Conan kept all of his weight on Colin, pressing his knee into the lower part of his back and keeping his arm at a vulnerable angle. He slammed a punch into Colin’s ribs twice; two hard slams.

Colin wheezed and struggled, but stilled as Conan bent his arm more. When it seemed like his arm might be damaged at any moment, he tapped out and was released.

“RK800, return to the others,” said Conroy over the speakers. He grimaced slightly when he caught sight of the smear of blue blood on Connor’s neck and face.

The technician looked ready to object, but instead glared at the examiner and started packing her things together. She stood up to leave.

“Actually, Miss Stone,” said Conroy, “it might be best if you stayed for the next phase of the test.”

She scowled, but set her bag down and stayed. Connor joined his brothers. Their straight backs and dutiful postures felt more tense than before.

Why were they insisting Connor continue after being so obviously injured? It wouldn't yield the same results as he would’ve gotten if he were functioning perfectly, so what was the point?

Perhaps they were testing his self-healing during times of stress, in which case, perfect timing for them. Between the tests, improvements, Conan’s strange behavior and his new injury, his stress levels were stuck at 43% among the red warnings.

“Beginning third and final Phase of test;  _ C-0m3 _ ,” said Conroy, “We will now be testing your armed combat. RK800-60 and RK900 will start, so that RK800 is given more time to fully heal. Same guidelines apply; no potentially permanent damage, fight ends when you submit or are unable to continue.”

Colin and Conan approached the table, waiting to select weapon. All of the knives and guns were specially chosen for their use to the police or military forces to give them an idea on what equipment they’ll be provided with once released on field missions.

“Automatic weapons are not permitted for this Phase. Select a knife of your choosing.”

Conan did not hesitate, choosing a short karambit; a curved blade and handle resembling a claw with a finger guard that makes it difficult to disarm. Colin, however, did not take any of the given weapons. He took out his own butterfly knife and unsheathed it in one fluid motion.

The air held a sense of foreboding as the two brothers got into fighting positions, knives ready and eyes calculating. Even the technician looked a bit pale, eyes flickering to her supplies, as if wondering if they would be enough.

“You will begin  _ now _ .”

Colin rushed in first, slashing at Conan’s abdomen twice, evaded both times. Conan grabbed the knife by the handle when it got too close, then shifted his grip to Colin’s hand. He twisted the hand behind Colin’s back and swung at kick behind his knees.

Colin slammed to the ground, but recovered quickly. He adjusted Conan’s grip on his hand so he was holding Conan’s arm instead, kicked Conan in the stomach, dragged him up and over Colin and onto the floor with him.

Colin quickly wrapped his legs around Conan’s arm in a leg-lock. They fought for the karambit; Conan trying to both throw his brother off while keeping his fist clenched; Colin working on prying his fingers open to release the finger guard.

Finally, Colin slammed the hand to the ground, forcing the grip to slacken. He grabbed the knife and threw it blindly. It slid across the floor, out of both their reach. 

During the scuffle, Conan managed to also grab the butterfly knife. He swiped the blade towards Colin, forcing him to back off.

For a moment nothing happened. The two stared each other down. They needed to fight smart. A single mistake could lead to their defeat.

Just as Conan rushed forward, Colin turned and made a run for the karambit. He reached out, ducking down, so close his fingers could almost graze it-

He spun on his knee and caught Conan’s wrist before the knife reached him.

But then Conan wrapped his free hand around Colin’s elbow, dragged it down, bringing the knife closer, leaving him vulnerable-

Colin tried to turn, maybe to grab the karambit or defend himself in some way.

But then thirium was sprayed across the floor, wetting their clothes and the butterfly’s blade. A scream echoed, loud and clear. Conroy called off the match. The technician was grabbing her tools.

Connor couldn’t move because all he could see was Colin clawing at the deep cut across his eyes, leading from temple to temple. Conan still held the knife that dripped blue blood, the same blood that trickled down Colin’s cheeks and smeared across his hands, across the floor.

“M-my eyes! I can’t see! What happened? Why can’t- What- why can’t I see?”

Connor didn’t realise he was moving until he was in front of Colin. Closer he could see tears cutting through the thirium, the LED flashing a dangerous red, his stress levels high and climbing.

Colin jerked as Connor gently held his hands, drawing them away from his face. Colin’s hands trembled in the hold. Static laced the edges of his voice.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s Connor. The knife damaged your eyes, but they can fix it. The technician’s here, okay? She fixed my shoulder, she’s going to fix this.”

But Colin was shaking his head, holding his hand back tightly, as if trying to ground himself. “What if they can’t? I failed. Amanda will-” He choked. 

_ RK800-60’s  _ STRESS LEVELS: 63%

“They’ve fixed worse. Don’t worry, okay? Just listen to me.” Connor made sure to speak calmly while the technician pressed a bandage to the deep slash.

Colin jumped and the static made a high whine in his voice. “Connor-”

_ RK800-60’s  _ STRESS LEVELS: 72%

“Listen. I’m here, try to calm down. Your stress levels are too high, okay? She’s just keeping you from losing anymore thirium,” said Connor.

The technician started wrapping a bandage across his eyes and around his head. It looked like something from Connor’s nightmares; thirium smeared across his tear-stained cheeks, lines were his nails had scratched, the same stained hands holding onto him desperately. Other technicians began to stream in, rushing to get them both to the health centre. Conan was nowhere to be found.

Through all the chaos, Colin squeezed his hand. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

Connor squeezed back. “Never.”

Everything felt like a blur. The twins were taken directly to the health centre with its white walls and blinding lights, large and imposing machines that held Colin still when he jerked away from unfamiliar hands that reached for his face.

Connor could hear them telling him to stay still and let them check his systems, but they sounded under water compared to Colin’s confused and scared pleas. Distantly, they were directing him to one of the machines. His audio processors suffered under the stress, picking up small pieces here and there.

“-systems are overloaded-”

“-ut into stasis-”

_ “-re is Connor? Conner-!” _

Connor opened his mouth to call out to Colin, tell him that he’s okay, tell him  _ something _ , but a cable was jammed into his neck port and he was being dragged away. Pulled under layers and layers of dark tar until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, could only watch as his systems were shut down and his mind finally shut down with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO boy this is a much longer chapter. I wanted to get the test in one chapter and I guess I got carried away *shrug*
> 
> Feel free to ask any questions in the comments below and tell me what you think! Leaving a kudos is always appreciated and takes no effort at all :)
> 
> Have a lovely day!


	5. Chapter 5

AUG.15.2038

The world outside of CyberLife Tower was… different than Connor had expected.

When Connor had first woken up, he was in the Health Centre, surrounded by white walls and machinery. The lights had blinded him until his optical units adjusted. Technicians were writing reports left and right, running tests and monitoring everything.

Ever since that day, he was provided with all kinds of information. CyberLife had granted him access to anything he could need and even, to an extent, confidential CyberLife files. He knew how streets looked, what a bird sounded like, the different colours and shapes of the sky and the clouds. 

All of that information was provided to him directly into his brain. It was so easy to imagine walking down those streets, to analyze crime scenes and evidence, to work with law enforcement officers.

During the Stern brothers’ training, Connor found himself wondering more and more about what it would be like once he was finally launched and ready for his mission, whatever it would be. He wondered if it would be exactly like the simulations suggested, how he would be treated as either an android in a largely human workspace, or rather as an entirely new hybrid that the world had never seen before.

As the doors to CyberLife tower opened and Connor stepped outside for the first time, all of his questions would finally he answered.

A taxi waited for him only a few metres away. The ground was wet from recent rain, reflecting the night sky that lacked stars, blocked by heavy clouds. The wind that howled in Connor’s ears silenced the moment the taxi door closed behind him.

Immediately, Connor took his quarter from his pocket and ran his fingertips across the edge, feeling the built up tension drain. He rolled the coin across his knuckles back and forth, letting it balance for moment like time had frozen still. Moonlight from the window reflected off the side of the coin. It fell perfectly into his palm.

Connor turned it over in his fingers repeatedly. Tonight was his first field mission and he had to be as sharp as ever.

A SWAT team had been sent to defuse a hostage situation involving an android - a _ deviant _, yet were failing. CyberLife deemed that the Stern brothers were ready to be deployed and had sent Connor to deal with the delicate mission.

He would not disappoint them. 

It wasn’t long before the taxi came to stop outside of a luxurious penthouse. The moment Connor stepped out, he realised just how surreal it felt to see the world through his own eyes for the first time.

Police cars cast the streets in a haze of red and blue. Distantly, he could hear a helicopter in the sky. The penthouse itself was an impressive height (not comparing to CyberLife Tower), with gleaming windows stretching all the way to the roof. Blinding lights lit up the top of the building. All the way from the ground, Connor could see a small figure standing on the ledge.

Connor readied himself and set for the roof.

____________

The mission was a success.

The deviant, a PL600 model named Daniel, discovered it was going to be replaced with a newer model. This seemed to trigger a violent and unpredictable reaction, as the deviant had retrieved a gun from the bedroom and shot the father three times. The hostage was the daughter, who had a close attachment to the deviant, and was held at gunpoint while the deviant threatened to jump off the building if its demands weren’t met.

He had two interactions with a human and both times had been unpleasant. The hostage’s mother had crashed into him while being escorted out of the building, begging for her daughter’s safety in hysterics. The moment she noticed the LED on his temple, the identifiers he’s required to wear on his jacket, she jerked back as if she’d been burned and questioned why a human wasn’t sent in his place. The experience left a heavy feeling in his chest.

The second time was with Captain Allen, who’d made his opinion on anything android related immediately clear by remaining uncooperative to his questions and unhelpful to his investigation. The officer had also said nothing after the deviant was dead and a severely injured officer was discovered alive due to Connor’s actions.

Connor didn’t know if the officer survived, but the tourniquet should have kept him stable until medical help arrived, even if applying it had threatened both them and the mission.

The curious Software Instability warning had appeared three times.

The first time was when Connor had discovered a fish (a dwarf gourami) that had fallen out of the tank in all the chaos and placed it back in the water. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done so, but it seemed like a waste of life to simply leave it to suffocate surrounded by glass shards.

The second time was when he discovered the gun that belonged to the fallen officer. Androids weren’t permitted to carry firearms. Not even the Stern brothers were allowed unless were ordered otherwise.

But Connor had seen the bodies and the splatters of thirium. He heard the deviant yelling from the balcony, the little girl’s cries. It was a simple choice that was in his best interest, even if he’d ended up discarding the weapon to increase the probability of success.

Nevertheless, the hostage survived. The deviant did not.

The third time…

<strike> _ Gaping wounds - dead eyes - thirium leaking through open lips - you lied to me, Connor. _ </strike>

Connor shut away the memory file as soon as it came. He’d accomplished his mission and that was all that mattered.

He’d returned to CyberLife Tower, where Amanda had requested his presence at the zen garden for a full report.

Before he entered the Tower, he’d taken a moment to compare it to the penthouse. It was significantly taller than the penthouse; all sleek glass and patterns. The building itself had colder colours; steel greys and its signature blue glow - unlike the penthouse that had been alight with police lights and lampposts. The company name above the entrance was more imposing than it had seemed when he left. The differences were interesting.

But now was time to focus on his report. The door to the zen garden opened and the sight of nature and white pillars welcomed him. The garden had changed to adapt to the outside world as it always did.

Night had settled like a thick blanket across the garden, illuminated by cold moonlight and stars, golden fireflies and the soft glow emanating from the plastic structures. The trees had a dark blue tint to the edges, reflected in the river so still it was not unlike a mirror surface.

A firefly buzzed close to Connor’s face and hovered for a beat. It flew closer to his LED, washing the blue glow of it in a yellowish gold before flying away.

Connor took a second to admire the wonder of it all before he kept walking. As he crossed one of the bridges to the small island, he caught sight of one more person than he expected. Amanda stood regal as ever next to her roses, and across from her was Colin.

Amanda met Connor’s eye and nodded as he approached. Judging by the sudden tense in Colin’s shoulders, Connor guessed that he wasn’t the only one who thought this was a private report.

Colin faced him but offered no greeting before turning back to Amanda. Any trace of his severe injuries from over two weeks ago had long disappeared. From what Connor knew, both of Colin’s optical units had been replaced, as well as several biocomponents. The recovery process did not concern Connor and was therefore not shared with him.

Connor itched to take out his coin, but settled for running his nails across his fingertips. The heavy feeling in his chest from the mission hadn’t dissipated as he expected, only lessoned.

“Connor. Welcome back,” Amanda said, expression pleased instead of disappointed. He wasn’t sure why he expected otherwise, but the fidgeting slowed regardless.

“It’s nice to see you, Amanda.”

She held a rose and twirled it in her hands. The thorns were not yet removed. “Well done on your first field mission. I’m impressed with the results despite how unhelpful Captain Allen proved to be to the mission. It was unfortunate that we had to work with him. Hopefully such situations will be avoided in the future.”

Amanda wandered down to the edges of the island, the twins following behind. A group of fireflies landed on the water, leaving small ripples in their wake as if some of the artificial stars had fallen from the sky and touched the surface with a gentle caress.

“I was just talking to Colin about his own field mission he completed not long ago. The situation was dealt with swiftly and efficiently. We were talking about what he would’ve done if certain issues had occurred,” she said. She sat down on a bench close to the waters, her eyes trained on Connor.

“Tell me, Connor, what would you have done if the deviant had chosen to jump?”

“I would have done all I could to save the hostage, even if it meant falling in her stead.”

“Good.” Amanda smiled and turned her attention to both of them. “Conan is currently preparing for his own mission. We must ensure there won’t be any more_ slip ups _ since _ C-0mB3 _. Despite this, I’m sure that Conan will accomplish his mission flawlessly.” Her gaze turned harder. “I expect the same of you two in the future.”

“Of course, Amanda,” Colin said.

She nodded before the river caught her attention again. The fireflies flew in a rhythm like a dance, first spiral-like before spreading out and drawing back together, leaving more ripples in the water.

“You both have one more test before we can be sure you’re ready to be released. One after the other, you will report to the training arena and complete your given task. You will not tell the other what the task is, understood?”

“Yes, Amanda,” said Colin, while Connor nodded.

Amanda nodded. The look she gave them was promising, like she could see their potential in a chart steadily rising. “Good luck, both of you.”

___________

The walk to the arena was a quiet one, save for the twins’ footsteps in unison. Almost immediately after the door to the zen garden had closed behind them, Connor had taken out his coin and turned it over and over in his palm to lessen the tension in his shoulders.

Colin had waited a beat or two before he also took out his butterfly knife - the same one that had been used to lacerate his eyes. It had been thoroughly cleaned of all thirium, but Connor’s memory files kept bringing up the sight of it dripping blue blood, emphasised by Colin’s screams in the background.

“You kept it,” said Connor. He wasn’t sure why he said anything at all.

Colin didn’t ask for clarification - they both knew what Connor meant. “It’s mine.”

“Yes, but… I didn’t expect you to keep it.”

“What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe that you’d choose a different tool to keep.”

“Those kind of injuries will happen if we’re not careful once we’re released. In a way, it serves as a reminder to be better than I was that day.” Colin watched his reflection on the blade for a moment before shaking his head and putting it away. “Besides, there’s no lasting damage.”

“Are you sure?”

“All of my systems are functioning like before the injury.”

“You know what I mean.”

Silence echoed between them, but it wasn’t not long before the entrance to the training arena appears.

Conroy Stewert waited outside for them, looking as disheveled as he had in the WG100’s memory during Connor’s first test. His frown looked set in stone as he read a tablet in his hands. He didn’t bother to look up at them.

“We will begin with RK800-60, then RK800 and finally RK900.” Conroy glanced at them over the edge of his glasses. “Who is not here…”

“Conan is currently preparing for a field mission-” Connor was cut off by Conroy with a wave of his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. For now - RK800-60, enter the simulation room and await further instructions.”

Colin walked in without thought. Conroy turned to follow before pausing. “Right. RK800, stay here until RK800-60 comes out and then follow the same instructions,” he said and left.

The door shut and Connor was alone.

He decided to use his coin while he waited; flipping it, rolling it across his knuckles, flicking it into the other hand and vice versa. He didn’t bother actively monitoring how long he waited. For all he knew, the test could last for ten minutes or an hour, maybe even longer. Whatever happened, Connor was prepared to wait as long as it took.

Which turned out to not actually be that long. The doors slid open right as Connor had begun spinning the quarter on his index finger, watching it catch on the artificial lights repeatedly.

Connor wasn’t sure what he expected; perhaps Colin’s clothes roughed up from physical activity, maybe even smears of thirium, or just a certain look on his face to give away what he’d been ordered to do. But there were no clues. Not a wrinkle in his jacket or a hair out of place.

A mental task then? Connor wondered if it would be anything like test; S1V3, after which he’d been dragged away by guards on each side. It wouldn’t matter - he was prepared this time.

He knew what to say. He knew what was right. He wasn’t confused or doubtful anymore.

Colin paused while passing Connor, a moment of hesitation. “Good luck,” he whispered, and then he was gone.

Connor frowned. What? He briefly considered going after Colin and asking what he meant, but there was no time. It was his turn to take the test and Colin had already risked saying anything at all, even if it was cryptic.

Connor steeled himself, entered the arena and headed straight for the simulation room.

The room itself had been used for training previously, although the examiners seemed to prefer the main arena for its many uses. The simulation room had been created with the same technology as the zen garden, although it was more of a trial run for the garden than a replica.

The window that the examiners watched from behind was one-way in this room. The window itself seemed to blend in with the walls. Connor stood in the centre of the room and assumed he was facing the examiners.

“RK800, run a self-diagnosis,” said Conroy’s voice over the speakers.

SELF DIAGNOSIS . . .

ALL SYSTEMS . . . **OK**

“All systems are functional.”

“Test; T-1K3RY comencing now. Be prepared for anything.”

And with that, the simulation began. 

The walls melted away to concrete walls and windows without glass. Rain water leaked past the window frames that lacked panes, spraying across the floor. The wooden panels that had been nailed across the windows allowed rain to easily slip in between the gaps.

The room was mostly bare, save for strewn bits of musty furniture and a carpet riddled with holes. The entire room was covered in thick layers of dust. Any light streamed through the gaps in the windows - moonlight. It looked like an abandoned building of sorts.

Connor was impressed with the realism, although it wasn’t entirely perfect. The moonlight was a bit too vibrant, allowing the entire room to be visible. His sensors didn’t pick up any dust (then again, he couldn’t expect them to fill the room made out of top-of-the-line technology with dust simply for the sake of realism), but the scent _ was _filtered in.

The door to his back opened. Two CyberLife guards clad head to toe in armour strode in, dragging a figure in by the arms with them. The person had a bag over their head and they bucked away from the guards as they were dragged towards Connor. Their hands were tied behind their back.

“Let me go, please! I-I didn’t do anything! I swear!” said the captive (in a definitely male voice) as he was dragged into the room. He sounded terrified and hurt. His clothes were filthy and torn in places, revealing equally dirty skin.

His voice reached a higher note as the guards forced the captive to his knees. “Please! I’ll do anything! Just let me go - I want to live! At least let me see, I’m begging you!” 

Once it became clear the captive couldn’t escape - not like this; tied up, likely injured and outnumbered - the guards released him. The captive didn’t try to get up. One of the guards remained behind the captive while the other stood beside Connor.

The guard behind the captive removed the bag in a fluid motion, revealing a young man in his late-twenties. Dark hair swept over his eyes, wild with fear. Tears streaked down his cheeks and his body trembled.

He looked Connor right in the eyes, who suddenly became very aware of his LED circling yellow. “Please. I haven’t done anything wrong - I promise! I’m just trying to live.”

The guard to Connor’s left withdrew his gun and the captive fell silent with a whispered “please”. The guard turned to Connor and held out the gun.

Connor grasped it tightly, forcing his shoulders to remain lax despite the heavy feeling spreading from his chest to his stomach, his throat. It choked him like the oily feeling of probing an android’s memory. Only this time it didn’t leave. It stained his throat black and filled his chest with sludge.

He burned - his insides, the cold air, the rain dampening his jacket. It all scorched him with the intensity of the gun’s weight in his hand and the pleading eyes looking up at him.

“Don’t do this - please. I don’t want to die. I fought so hard, _ please _ ! You can’t do this!” the man thrashed so much that the guard placed a bruising grip on his shoulder. “I just- I only recently- I have so much to live for. _ You can’t do this! _”

For CyberLife, Connor thought.

He clicked the safety off.

For Amanda.

He aimed the gun between the captive’s eyes, so wide and wet with tears.

For his brothers.

The man’s final plea was cut off with a _ BANG! _ as Connor pulled the trigger.

The gun jerked in his hand and the sound echoed in the small space, but Connor couldn’t hear any of it. Did his audio processors turn off? He wasn’t sure. Connor didn’t feel in control of anything at that moment.

All he knew was that he pulled the trigger, the man’s head jerked back and blue blood sprayed the floor like rain through the battered windows.

His eyes remained wide open, glassy and unseeing. His mouth hung open in a cry that never got the chance to come out. Anguish lined his face, tears streaked through dirt, and blue blood trickling down his face.

The man was an android. A deviant with their LED removed (by himself or CyberLife, Connor didn’t want to know), or an android made specifically to portray raw emotion and to evade his scanners. Or maybe not. Connor hadn’t scanned him- _ it _.

It didn’t make sense. The gun sat in Connor’s hand, the bullet had gone through the man- _ android’ _s head, but connecting the dots didn’t seem possible.

He tried to process it, what he’d done, and quickly stopped. If he did, he’d fail now, surely. He’d end up just like the captive- _ deviant _in front of him. Disposed of, like all things useless to CyberLife.

Instead, Connor shut the thoughts away, like he’d done whenever his systems glitched and brought up memories without his permission. He locked the thoughts away, along with Daniel’s dead eyes and glitching voice.

He thrust the gun into the soldier’s outstretched hand, looking directly into the visor. The reflection that looked back at him lied. It showed a face devoid of emotion, betrayed only by his LED circling yellow-red-yellow-red.

“Are we done?”

The abandoned building melted away to the simulation room. It would’ve looked the same, like nothing had ever happened, if it weren’t for the two guards and the body; all of which were very real. They had walked right in and put a gun in his hand that was as real as they were. The bullet that tore through the android’s head has been as real as they were, yet at the same time, a complete lie.

The voice over the speaker sounded pleased. “Test; T-1K3RY is a success. You will report to the zen garden, after which you will have no further plans for the day.”

_________

The walk to the garden hadn’t felt real, nothing did at that moment. All Connor knew was that one second he was nodding, striding out of the simulation room and the next he was surrounded by fireflies in a nighttime garden, back straight like always while Amanda smiled that smile. 

“Congratulations, Connor,” Amanda was saying. She was still holding that same rose from earlier. Still covered in thorns.

“You’re finally ready for your first assignment. This won’t happen immediately, of course. Times are changing and people need to realise it first. They need to try and fix the problems they’ve made. And when they fail again and again without our help, we can finally show what our hard work has achieved. They’ll finally understand how much they need us.”

Amanda took her large scissors and cut the rose short. Connor watched as the stem fell to the floor with the others.

She approached him leisurely, a self-satisfied smile at her lips. “I have a feeling that you-” she said, placing the rose in his hand and loosely closing his hand over it, “are going to change the world for the better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, if anyone actually still has any interest in this. I recently had my 16th birthday and school has been stressful! Yep, that's right. I actually have an excuse, hahaha! (my birthday is the 11th of nov is anyone's curious!)
> 
> Oof, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It is currently 03.38 as I'm writing this and I started writing this chapter at about 23 today (or, technically, yesterday :p) Please let me know what you think of this chapter, or the fic in general so far! Comments and kudos mean a lot and takes so little time and effort!
> 
> Have a lovely day, babes! :)


	6. Chapter 6

NOV.05.2038

The day was remarkably similar yet different from Connor’s first field mission.

A third quarter of the moon lit the otherwise dark sky, stars swallowed by clouds. Rain soaked through Connor’s jacket and hair, and water trickled down his face. This time, there was no wind to howl in his ears.

The buildings here were not nearly as tall as the penthouse - mostly apartments or small businesses. The streets were alight from lampposts, digital billboards advertising the Detroit football team and neon signs that hung around bars or nightclubs. Litter speckled the area, unlike the clean and well-maintained streets of the nicer parts of the city.

Connor ran his fingertip across the edge of his coin, admiring the stark contrast of light and shadow before falling into a steady rhythm of flipping it high in the air.

The bar ahead of him, named “Jimmy’s Bar”, was a small business with loyal customers. Stamped in the middle of the door was a “No Androids Allowed” sticker in bright red. Connor narrowed his eyes at the sight, clenching his coin tight in his fist.

Thankfully, CyberLife had taken precautions to ensure that he and the other RK models would have access to these types of areas. So, Connor put his coin away, straightened his tie and walked right in.

Connor knew he was unwelcome right away. Several customers turned to him, with curled lips and narrowed eyes. Most of them kept an eye on him as he stepped into the bar, back straight and sharp-eyed.

As Connor walked past, scanning faces and the environment, voices began to murmur. 

“Shit, I thought android weren’t allowed here.”

“That’s what I thought…”

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

Connor chose to focus on one customer at the bar. Long, grey hair covered his face, so Connor approached him from the other side until his scanner could recognise him.

ANDERSON, HANK

_ Born: 09/06/1985 / / Police Lieutenant _

_ Criminal record: None _

The image provided held almost no resemblance to the rugged man slouched over a shot of whiskey. In real life, he was older, lined by stress and age, enhanced by his grim frown. Even his loud shirt failed to lighten up his sour demeanor. 

“Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.” Connor waited, then continued when no greeting was returned. “I looked for you at the station but nobody knew where you were. They said you were probably having a drink nearby. I was lucky to find you at the fifth bar.”

It’d been tedious work, walking from bar to bar, scanning face after face until now. Many slurs had been sent his way at every one of them. He’d been kicked out of the third bar, even though he’d been on his way out at the time. Seeing his brothers immediately make their way to the Captain’s office while he was sent on a wild goose chase has not been how he wanted to start his first mission.

“... What do you want?”

“You were assigned a case early this evening. A homicide, involving a CyberLife android. In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a special new line of androids to assist investigators.”

The Lieutenant doesn’t even look at Connor. “Well, I don’t need any _ assistance _, ‘specially not from a plastic asshole like you. So just be a good lil’ robot and get the fuck outta here.” He waved a dismissive hand and gulped down some whiskey.

Now, Connor hadn’t been outside for very long and he had barely interacted with anyone. Those who he did speak with had either thrown him out of a bar, tried to throw an empty drink at him, or yelled belittling things at him so closely his scanner picked up .23 BAC on their breath.

Overall, Connor thought that it was understandable that he wanted this interaction over with as fast as physically possible without having to resort to dragging the Lieutenant to the crime scene.

So Connor took a second to gather any patience he had left and used to one of his programming’s recommended responses.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I must insist. My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you.”

“You know where you can stick your instructions?” the Lieutenant chuckled, taking another swig from his glass.

Connor frowned. “No… where?”

Finally, Lieutenant Anderson turned to look at him, incredulous, but then his eyes widened and it looked like he almost choked on his drink. He coughed and managed a hoarse,_ “what the fuck.” _

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

The Lieutenant waved Connor and the bartender off, coughing into his sleeve. “_ Fucking Christ- _ What- You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!”

He turned back to Connor, almost scrutinizingly as he looked at the CyberLife identifiers, the LED on his temple and confusion and concern expressed on his face.

“Is there something wrong?” Connor asked.

Lieutenant Anderson was speechless. He downed the rest of his glass, blinked hard a few times and then looked back at Connor. “What the fuck is this? What are you, _ twelve _?”

Ah, yes, that. Connor’s young age and appearance had also been an obstacle when he was passing through bars. At once point, someone had jokingly asked if CyberLife was run by “nonces”. Connor hadn’t dignified that with a response.

“If it is my age you are concerned about, Lieutenant, I can assure you that I am fully capable of working on this case with you-”

“_ Working on the case _ -?! You gotta be shittin’ me. Why is CyberLife sending a damn _ kid _ model for a _ homicide _-” he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. He let out of a bark of laughter, although it did not sound amused. “This is fucking bullshit. Are they serious, they-...”

Connor leaned down until he was eye level with the Lieutenant. “I am the most advanced prototype released by CyberLife yet, made specifically to investigate homicides and cases including deviant androids. My appearance does not change the fact that I am the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created and a breakthrough in modern technology. It also does not affect my abilities as an investigator and detective. I have done my part to get here, and I did not go looking through _ five _bars for you to laugh in my face.”

He stood back to full height, placed a bill on the counter and tilted his head. “Now, if I buy you another drink for the road, will you agree to come with me and do your job as a Lieutenant?”

Anderson floundered for a moment, like he wasn’t sure if he should punch someone in the face or simply give up on life and crawl into a ball. Apparently whiskey solved this dilemma, since he nodded and ordered another drink from the bartender. It was gone before it had settled on the table.

“... Fine. But I’m driving,” he said, moving to get out of the stool with considerably less grace than a sober man.

Connor didn’t even know what to say. The obviously intoxicated man was already fumbling for his keys, only half-way out of his chair.

“I… Maybe it would be better if I drove-”

Lieutenant Anderson swung his hand back. “Nah, nah, nah. Not a chance. No way an _ android _that looks like a ten-year-old is driving my car.”

_____________

It was not the first time Connor had seen a dead body. CyberLife had him and his brothers examine a few corpses before, not to mention the bodies he’d seen during his first field mission.

He knew death’s stench that clung to everything close by as if the devil had left a lingering touch on everything. He knew the sight of pale, swollen skin that glistened in the light. Unseeing eyes swallowed by darkness, mouth agape and smeared with congealed blood and red ice. The entirety of the torso torn open and reduced to a gory mess…

The body that had once been Carlos Ortiz was a gruesome one, to say the least. He’d been left to rot for over 19 days before being discovered by his landlord. 28 stab wounds, including lacerations to the arms, chest and a long cut trailing from the collar bone to the right shoulder.

It hadn’t taken Connor long to figure out what had happened. The deviant had been subjected to physical abuse long before the murder had taken place, until one day, Ortiz had bitten off more than he could chew and smoked even more red ice, and armed himself with a bat.

He’d beaten the deviant relentlessly, leading to the kitchen. Cornered and attacked, the android had most likely been overloaded with system malfunctions, instabilities and had deviated from its programming. It’d taken a knife from the broad selection close by and used it to pursue Ortiz.

Slashed his arms, his chest, and driven him all the way to the living room before running him through with the knife until he collapsed by the wall. The android continued to stab the body before finally casting the knife aside and hiding away in the attic, but not before writing the words “I AM ALIVE” in Ortiz’s blood on the wall above the body.

In the bathroom, the shower wall had been entirely covered in the word “rA9” written repeatedly. Next to the show drain was a sculpture of an unrecognisable person made of clay. It looked like a shrine.

Connor had been the one to discover the deviant, LED blinking red and covered in blood, arms riddled with cigarette burns and its entire body battered. Patches of thirium had turned the human blood a striking purple on its uniform.

The deviant had a desperate look on its face. A streak of blood had long ago dried on its face. “I was just defending myself…” it said, sounding so sure that it’d been right to take a man’s life. “He was gonna kill me.”

It looked Connor right in the eyes, looking for something that neither of them was sure existed. “I’m begging you… Don’t tell them,” it said.

But Connor had his mission. So when Lieutenant Anderson had called after Connor, he’d reported the discovery. The android didn’t fight, didn’t even try to beg again. Instead, it looked like it’d had something stolen from it and only trembled when they handcuffed it.

The android’s behavior remained unresponsive the entire journey to the investigation room at the precinct. Now, it was handcuffed to a steel table, staring vacantly at its hands. It paid no attention to Lieutenant Anderson, who sat opposite him and got right to the point, asking questions like “why did you kill him?” and “what happened before you took that knife?”.

Connor watched the scene from behind the one-way-mirror. Holograms monitored the interrogation and displayed information about the case in general. The only other people in the room with him was an Officer Chris Miller and Detective Gavin Reed.

Connor hadn’t interacted with Reed much before now, but he seemed like an … unpleasant individual. He wore a brown leather coat and had a scar across his nose. The only time he’d addressed Connor directly, he’d taken a double-take, sneered and called him a “plastic prick” that was “just trying to take more jobs”.

Connor had opted to remain silent. From where he stood, observing the android behind a protection of thick glass, he felt like the examiners at CyberLife. The comparison immediately unsettled him. He wanted to leave. He itched to be on the other side of the glass if it meant not being one of the many examiners that documented his every move.

Connor turned his coin over in his hand repeatedly, feeling the dull edge scrape against his skin and ran his nails over the raised lines.

Lieutenant Anderson seemed more frustrated with the suspect than aware of his presentation in front of the many cameras. He snapped his fingers in the android’s face, but it didn’t even flinch.

He slammed his hands on the table. “Say something, goddamnit!”

Seconds passed, but the deviant didn’t even look up. Anderson shook his head and got up. “Fuck it, I’m outta here…” he said, leaving the room.

A moment later, the door to their side of the room slid open and Anderson walked in. “We’re wastin’ our time interrogating a machine, we’re gettin’ nothing out of it!” he said, slumping in an empty seat.

Reed spoke up from where he stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “‘Could always try roughing it up a little.” He sent a pointed look at Connor. “After all, it’s not human…”

Connor stared back, forcing himself to stop fidgeting with his coin. Was this how the police usually dealt with deviants, or had they not encountered them before? Reed had displayed anti-androids sentiments earlier. Maybe he was one of the few that had such disregard for androids, even if they were evidence or potential leads. Connor’s experience in the field so far hinted otherwise.

“Androids don’t feel pain,” Connor said, “you would only damage it and that wouldn’t make it talk. Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations.”

“What, it’ll fry its circuits or something?” said Reed.

Connor couldn’t tell if he was genuinely asking or not, but answered anyway. “No. it will try to disable itself by any means possible, whether that means bashing its head in a wall or removing its own biocomponents until it shuts down.”

Officer Miller seemed disturbed by the thought and subconsciously pressed his hand to his chest. “Jesus Christ…”

Detective Reed, however, displayed no such reaction. He stepped away from the wall and said, “okay, smartass. What should we do then?”

Connor thought back to his negotiation skills at his first field mission, to the numerous training sessions preparing him for such situations and interrogation protocols embedded in his programming. He looked back at the deviant, who hadn’t moved an inch.

“I could try questioning it.”

Reed let out both the first laugh Connor had ever heard and the fakest he’d ever hear again. He gestured at Connor as if that in itself was a joke. Lieutenant Anderson, however, didn’t laugh.

Instead, he looked back at Connor for a moment, like he was considering something, and then shrugged. “What do we have to lose?” When Connor didn’t immediately move for the door, he waved again. “Go ahead,” he said, “suspect’s all yours. You don’t look very intimidating, so if you’re gonna try scaring it, you better do better than just giving it a mean look.”

Connor left the room just as Reed started protesting, pocketed his coin, pressed his hand to the scanner and the door slid open for him. He stepped into the room before he could ponder the consequences of failure.

The files laid spread out on the table; close up photographs of Ortiz’s body, the wounds and his swollen face. Connor sat opposite the deviant and took a moment to analyse it.

PROCESSING LED

_ Signs of software instability _

_ Probability of self-destruction: Low _

MODEL HK400 - 

HOUSEKEEPER

_ Manufacture date: 05/29/2030 _

_ Property of: Carlos Ortiz _

The image that displayed the android reminded Connor of Lieutenant Anderson. It held resemblance, yes, but it looked nothing like the android in front of him now; burned and disfigured, cheeks wet with tears and covered in blood.

BURN MARKS

_ Repeated marking over 16 months _

_ Caused by cigarettes _

HIT MARKS

_ Non-critical damage Level 2 _

_ Caused by baseball bat _

DRIED BLOOD

_ DNA analysis: Carlos Ortiz _

_ Sample date: _ _ > 19 days _

OBJECTIVE . . . **EXTRACT **CONFESSION

REACH **OPTIMAL STRESS** FOR CONFESSION

Connor readied himself - and began the interrogation.

He began with establishing what had happened; placing the photographs directly into the android’s line of vision. If it wanted to look away, it’d have to react. It’d have to show vulnerability. Already, its LED started flashing red.

He pointed out the mimic of fear in his programs, caused by software instability. Connor briefly thought of Daniel, fearing being replaced; of the android from test: _ T-1K3RY _, who’d begged for his life right before-

Connor shut away the memory files and focused on the interrogation.

Threatening the deviant with deactivation had provoked a response; it lifted its head, not looking Connor in the eye, and asked what would happen after the interrogation. Only then did it glance at Connor fearfully, “they’re going to destroy me, aren’t they?”

The deviant had asked why Connor had reported him, as if he’d had a choice. The first time he held Connor’s gaze was when he’d admitted with a broken whisper, “I don’t wanna die.”

During the interrogation, Connor would play with different tones and body language; threatening and aggressive when he needed to be, even going as far as to slam the table and get in the android’s face in case his young appearance was hindering progress; understanding and saying things like “I can only help you if you talk to me”.

The interrogation continued to the point where Connor began to wonder whether he’d fail this mission. Until the deviant started talking.

“He tortured me every day…” It stared at one point on the table as it spoke in a voice that no longer shook. It sounded resigned. “I did whatever he told me, but… “ it looked up and its face showed nothing but the empty knowledge of having no control over one's life, “there was always something wrong…

“Then one day… He took a bat and started hitting me… For the first time, I felt _ scared… _scared he might destroy me, scared I might die. So I…”

Connor remained completely silent. He could imagine the others in the unseen room were too.

“I grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the stomach…I felt better… so I stabbed him again and _ again… _ until he collapsed.” The deviant seemed completely transfixed on a sight that wasn’t there. “There was blood everywhere.”

Connor asked about the writing on the wall. The deviant was adamant that it had to write it, to prove that its owner was wrong, that it wasn’t just plastic or a machine. It seemed utterly convinced that it needed to prove to a dead man of its life.

The interrogation continued smoothly. Connor discovered that the sculpture had been an offering, “an offering so I’ll be saved,” as it had said. An offering to rA9, it said, but when Connor had pushed about rA9, it resorted to unusable babble and then silence.

It said that it felt emotion when it was beaten and couldn’t say anything. It said that it wasn’t fair. It spat the word like it was a lie, or an unattainable wish. The deviant expressed its anger; its hatred; its fear once it had been free of orders, which led to its hiding.

Finally, Connor turned to the one-way-mirror. “I’m done,” he said. He’d gotten up to leave when the others walked in.

“Chris, lock it up,” said Reed. But when Officer Miller had unlocked the cuffs and grabbed the deviant by the arm, it jerked back like it’d been burned.

“Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!” it said desperately.

_ HK400’S _STRESS LEVELS: ^70%

Officer Miller moved again to move the android, but it made a sound of distress and cowered away again. Reed stepped forward and snapped, “the fuck are you doing? Move it!”

The android was getting visibly more upset, turning away from Officer Miller and hunching over itself. It started to mumble and whimper. Its stress levels steadily increased.

Connor frowned at Reed. What was he doing? Couldn’t he tell the android was obviously panicked? 

“You shouldn’t touch it,” he said, “it’ll self-destruct if it feels threatened-”

“Stay out of this, kid, got it? No fuckin’ android is gonna tell me what to do. Especially not some _ kid _version,” said Reed. By now, Officer Miller is struggling to get a hold on the thrashing android.

Connor ignored the warning that popped up in the corner of his vision and stepped forward. “You don’t understand. If it self-destructs, we won’t get anything out of it!” he said, ignoring the pit in his stomach that grew as the deviant thrashed harder to get away.

“I told you to shut your fuckin’ mouth! Chris, gonna move this asshole or what?”

“I’m trying!” said Chris. The android started looking around the room wildly, as if looking for something to defend itself with. Just like it had done when getting beaten to hell. Right before it managed to stab Ortiz 28 times.

Connor stormed forward and managed to tear Miller away from the deviant. “I can’t let you do that! Leave it alone, now!” he said, standing up to the Officer, despite being two inches shorter.

Suddenly, Reed brought out his gun and pointed it between Connor’s eyes. “I warned you, motherfucker!” he snarled. Connor stilled, barely daring to blink.

Lieutenant Anderson took a step forward. “Hey! That’s enough!”

“Mind your own business, Hank,” said Reed. But the longer he aimed at Connor, the more uncertain he looked. He became less sure in his posture, less confident in his decision.

Anderson took out his own gun and aimed it at Reed. “I said _ ‘that’s enough’ _.”

For a second, nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Even the deviant had ceased fighting now that it was left alone.

Then Reed gave Connor one final glare before stowing his gun away. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do ever again, got it?” he turned to Anderson, pointed. “You’re not gonna get away with it this time.” Then, with a hissed curse, he left the room.

Connor turned his attention to the deviant, who had fallen out of the chair in the scuffle. He kneeled down and held out his hand, being sure to keep space between them. “Everything is alright. It’s over now. Nobody is gonna hurt you.”

The deviant didn’t move, but its stress levels lowered significantly to 50%. Connor got back up and turned to Officer Miller. “Please, don’t touch it. Let it follow you out of the room and it won’t cause any trouble,” he said.

The deviant got back to its feet, still hunched over itself and glancing between everyone as if one of them would jump it. Connor softened his gaze but stayed put. “Would you like any help?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why, but it made sense while he watched the android hobble to the best of its ability.

It shook its head, but stood a little straighter, its expression a little fiercer. As it walked past, it looked Connor in the eyes. “The truth is inside.” Then it left without another word. Its LED remained a steady blue.

As Connor watched it leave the room, a familiar glitch appeared again the corner of his vision. He brushed it aside the moment it popped up.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, school is just a whole wallop of stress, isn't it? I apologise for the long wait - work keeps piling on top of work and training is taking a lot out of me. Thankfully, though, I've been especially inspired to write lately and I've started planning the next few chapters. School lets out for the Christmas holiday, though, so I'll hopefully have more time to write and if not, then at least I'll actually get some sleep after staying up until 2 am to make time for writing, like I did last night. And the night before that. I am so dead inside right now that I am decomposing. 
> 
> Please leave a comment or a kudos if you haven't! Feedback is always appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

NOV.06.2038

When Connor opened his eyes, it was to the zen garden in Spring. Sunlight streamed through gaps in the trees, warming his skin, and the many artificial structures casting a soft glow across the garden. He could hear rushing water, insects buzzing and birds chirping like usual. Wind caressed his face and swayed the trees’ leaves therapeutically.

What happened? Just a second ago, Connor was about to leave an automated taxi, parked right outside the police station. The sun was out, but the air was frigid and clouds threatened the sunny sky. Most importantly, Connor was most certainly _ not _been at the zen garden, which was located all the way back at CyberLife Tower.

Where was he?

An objective appeared suddenly in his vision.

FIND **AMANDA**

Amanda? Was she here? Connor was standing on one of the platforms that surrounded the island, facing the abstract tree. It wasn’t a side of the garden he saw often - on the opposite side to where the door would normally be. Was it still there? He still had no idea where he was, not to mention where a supposed door might lead to.

Connor watched his surroundings. Everything was identical to the zen garden. Was he at CyberLife Tower? How could he have not known? Had he been damaged so suddenly that he’d gone into emergency stasis immediately? Maybe his memory files had been damaged? 

SELF DIAGNOSIS . . .

ALL SYSTEMS . . . **OK**

Then what…?

Connor paused as he saw something in the corner of his eye. Something that didn’t exist in the zen garden.

He followed a stone path to a strange structure. It had the the white, flawless design of the rest of the technological structures in the garden, but it was completely unfamiliar. Connor couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. Was it a new edition to the garden…?

The pillar was in the centre of four columns that curled into the middle above it, where they connected like an otherworldly pyramid. The pillar itself wasn’t very tall - it just about reached Connor’s waist. It was crystal-like in design and the edges glowed a dark blue. At the top of the pillar was a hand-scanner at the perfect height.

Connor circled around the pillar, looking for a clue of some kind as to what it was about. But there were no signs or engraved words. Just sleek metal, devoid of blemishes. The observation reminded him of CyberLife.

Coming to a stop in front of the pillar, Connor knelt so he was eye-level with the scanner and brought up his hand. As he lowered it to the panel, he felt a soft vibration like a hum from the structure that grew stronger the closer his hand got.

He rested his hand on the panel and, for a moment, nothing happened. Then there was a sharp tug behind his eyes, as if someone had pulled his hair, and the panel glowed blue. It emitted a high-pitched whine in his head. 

Connor yanked his hand back and got to his feet. The pillar was back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. He looked down at his hand and it was undamaged.

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^^**

What the hell…? Connor held his hand close to his chest. Guilt squeezed his throat. It felt like he’d done something he’d been told not to.

SELF DIAGNOSIS . . .

ALL SYSTEMS . . . **OK**

Connor forced himself to drop his hand and turn away from the pillar. What was he doing? He was acting ridiculous. Interacting with CyberLife equipment without permission - this was exactly what Amanda had been trying to avoid by training them so vigorously.

If she found out what he’d done, she’d revoke his field missions privileges and have him sent back to the health centre. It made the most sense. After all, he was supposed to be the DPD’s last line of defense. How could he be that if he was doing the first thing that came to mind, like- like some _ deviant _.

Connor took a deep breath, held it and released it. He straightened his tie and finally set to do his objective, just as his purpose was.

He found Amanda where she usually was - tending to her roses on the island. The roses seemed especially bright in the sun. The suffocating guilt of his actions clashed with the relief of seeing Amanda. She cut a rose in half and he wondered if he’d been wrong to feel relieved.

“Hello, Amanda,” said Connor.

Amanda turned to him and smiled. “Connor,” she said, voice pleased, “it’s good to see you.”

She didn’t know. That must be why she didn’t immediately confront the issue. It had to be. Connor smiled at Amanda, but the feeling in his chest didn’t lessen like he expected. He hoped his LED wasn’t yellow.

Amanda turned back to her roses, trimming them with razor sharp scissors. “Congratulations, Connor. Finding that deviant was far from easy-” she smelled the rose deeply- “and the way you interrogated it was very clever.” She turned around and faced him properly. “You’ve been remarkably efficient, Connor.”

Connor offered a polite nod. Despite the heavy feeling in his chest that deepened when he saw the genuine satisfaction on her face, he felt proud. “Thank you, Amanda.”

“We’ve asked the DPD to transfer it to us for further study,” she said, placing the rose on a pedestal to her side. She started to water the roses, spraying them gently. “It may teach us something about what happened.”

From where Connor stood, he could see small droplets of water on the roses sparkle in the sun. The sun that felt so very real but couldn’t possibly be. “What… is this place, exactly? How did I get here?”

Amanda stilled and the air felt a bit colder like it always did whenever he asked questions. Why did he do that? Amanda was happy- she was pleased with him. CyberLife was pleased. And then he’d started asking questions that weren’t his business, like he always did. Like he was always told not to.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

For whatever reason, Amanda decided to answer. “There are two CyberLife gardens. One of them resides at the top floors of CyberLife Tower. That is the one you are most familiar with.” She caressed one of the impeccable roses. “_ This _is a graphic interface that connects you and the other RK models to myself and CyberLife. This is so I can observe your progress and report back to CyberLife without you having to physically return, in case you’re unable to.”

“Will I ever see Colin or Conan here? What was Conan’s first field mission?” The questions burst from his mouth before he could stop them.

Amanda turned to face him. Any trace of pride had been wiped from her face, replaced by a dour frown. “I fail to see how this is relevant to your mission, Connor. I expect you find answers, not ask questions.”

As if boiling tar had crawled up his throat, burning his lungs and face from the inside, Connor’s throat tightened. He moved to take out his coin, then remembered the last time he’d done such in front of Amanda and stopped. His fingers twitched and his entire posture was tense. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why did he speak at all?

_ Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t ask questions. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t ask questions. _

<strike> _ Know your place. _ </strike>

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

Amanda turned back to her flowers with a lingering stare. “The interrogation seemed... challenging. What did you think of the deviant?”

Connor took a moment to thank the change of subject before answering. “It showed signs of PTSD after being abused by its owner, as if its original program had been entirely replaced by new instructions.”

“This… Lieutenant Anderson has been officially assigned to the deviancy case.” Her tone turned inquisitive. “What do you make of him?”

Connor thought back to the bar, when Anderson had behaved brash and expressed anti-android sentiment. He’d been the same at the beginning of the crime scene investigation, but then at times he’d seemed… impressed with Connor. And then at the interrogation, he’d given Connor a chance to prove himself and had defended him.

“...He’s definitely not what I was expecting, but… I don’t have enough information yet to form a definitive opinion.”

“Unfortunately,” said Amanda, turning again to face him, “we have no choice but to work with him. What do you think is the best approach?”

Her apparent disliking towards the Lieutenant reminded Connor of her thoughts on Captain Allen and his behavior during the hostage situation. But from what Connor knew of Anderson, he was a good detective when he wanted to be, and he definitely stood by his morals. And Connor hadn’t even seen him on a case he didn’t half-ass yet.

“I will try to establish a friendly relationship.” Connor kept going when Amanda turned back to her roses, displeased, as if he could convince her to agree with him. “If I can get him to trust me, it will be helpful for the investigation.”

Amanda set her spray bottle aside and stepped towards Connor. “More and more androids show signs of deviancy. There are millions in circulation. If they become unstable, the consequences will be disastrous.”

No pressure or anything.

Amanda took more steps forward. “You are one of the most advanced prototypes CyberLife has ever created. If anyone can figure out what’s happening, it’s you,” she said.

Connor wondered if she meant to be vague with if she meant him alone or also his brothers. He didn’t ask. “You can count on me, Amanda.”

Then, something in the back of his mind was dragging him down, away from the garden and Amanda. Connor closed his eyes. His sensors adjusted back to reality. Warm sun on his skin turned to cold air. The smell of nature turned to pollution and the sounds of the zen garden filtered back to cars and streets buzzing with people.

Amanda’s voice echoed through his mind one last time: _ “Hurry, Connor. There’s little time.” _ Then he opened his eyes and set course for the police station.

____________

Connor had known Anderson for less than twenty-four hours and he was already starting to take back what he thought about him being a good detective and helpful to the mission.

When the android at the reception desk told him that the Lieutenant had yet to arrive, part of him wanted to say “of _ course _ he’s not.” He should’ve figured after having to hunt him down the night prior ( _ five bars _ ) that Anderson wasn’t a man that followed common disciplines, like something as simple as _ turning up to work on time. _

Connor wondered if he was being unreasonably impatient with Anderson - but then he’d looked into Captain Fowler’s office, saw both Colin and Conan ready and waiting on him, and he decided that he was being perfectly reasonable.

His mood had not improved after he’d asked Officer Miller what time Anderson usually arrived, who said that they’d be lucky to see him before noon. Which led to where Connor was now, observing Anderson’s desk and trying to pass the time.

Entirely unrelated, Lieutenant Hank Anderson was a decorated officer that listened to dark heavy metal, specifically Knights of the Black Death, was a anti-android radical, supported the Detroit Basketball team, had become the youngest ever Lieutenant on the Detroit police force from a large scale red ice bust, liked donuts and coffee and kept a dead Japanese maple tree on his desk.

He also owned a Saint Bernard that shed often.

Just as Connor had finished taking in all of the information, Lieutenant Anderson had finally decided to show up. So Connor set his annoyance aside, offered a polite smile and said, “it’s good to see you again, Lieutenant.”

Anderson looked up the way an officer would approach a room with an armed suspect on the loose, and huffed. “Ah, Jesus…”

At that moment, Captain Fowler had stepped out of his office and looked across the room. “Gavin! In my office. Hank! You too. Bring the android with you,” he said gruffly.

Connor walked much faster than Anderson, who trudged along tiredly, and Reed, who was much further away than them. The office walls and door was made entirely out of bullet-proof glass, so Connor could see his brothers long before he opened the door.

Conan and Colin stood next to each other like any other android beside Captain Fowler’s desk. When Connor walked in, Conan nodded as a greeting, while Colin looked away and his LED flashed yellow the moment they locked eyes. Connor took his place next to Colin.

“What the actual shit…” said Anderson the moment he stepped inside.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! There’s _ three _of them?!” said Reed right after.

Fowler sat down at his desk and scowled at them both. “Sit down, both of you.”

They did, albeit reluctantly and without taking their eyes off of the Stern brothers. Captain Fowler didn’t look at them at first, instead turning his attention to his computer and occasionally glancing at the androids.

“I’ve got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We’ve always had isolated incidents; old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap.” Fowler turned to Anderson and Reed. “Now, we’re getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night… This isn’t just CyberLife’s problem anymore. It’s now a criminal investigation and we’ve gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan.”

Here it comes…

“I want you two to investigate these cases and see if there’s any link,” Fowler finished.

Reed gripped his seat like he’s been punched in the gut. “What?”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” said Anderson in disbelief, “why do I gotta deal with this shit? I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case!”

“That goes for both of us,” said Reed, “I mean, come on, Jeffery, really? Me, investigating androids? I hate the fuckin things!”

“Yeah, come on, Jeffery, I’m agreeing with _ Gavin _of all people! I know jack-shit about androids! I can barely change the settings on my own damn phone.”

It took Connor a moment to realise that Conan was attempting to establish a mental connection during all of this. He connected the link and immediately heard Conan’s voice in his head.

_ “When do you think they’re going to remember that we’re in the same room as them?” _

Connor’s lip twitched upwards. _ “Do you think it’ll change anything?” _

Conan hummed through the link. _ “No, but humans tend to react...vividly. I’d like to see it when it happens.” _

Fowler seemed to repel their protests like water off a duck’s back. “Then I expect you to be agreeing with each other a lot more now that you’ll be working together.”

Reed opened his mouth to fire back, but was silenced by a wave of Fowler’s hand. “Look,” said Fowler, “everybody’s overloaded. I think you’re both perfectly qualified for this type of investigation.”

_ “The power of the hand,” _Connor mused to Conan, who quirked a small smile. Colin must have noticed because he shifted slightly and then they were getting a request for him to join the link.

They both hesitated for a moment. Conan fell silent when Connor accepted the invitation.

Meanwhile, Anderson had leapt from his chair. “Bullshit!”

Reed joined in but remained in his seat, apparently not quite as disregarding of Fowler’s title as Anderson. “We both know that nobody wants to deal with a bunch of fuckin plastics. You’re just dumping it on us ‘cause we’re the only ones left!”

Fowler didn’t react to their bait. “CyberLife sent over these androids to help with the investigation,” he said, gesturing to the Stern brothers. Anderson just looked them over and grimaced.

Reed looked to find them all staring directly at him and jumped in his seat. “Jesus, fuck-!”

_ “There it is,” _ said Conan. Connor ended up biting his tongue to avoid laughing while Colin saved the image into his memory files.

_ “Why did you save an image of that?” _ asked Connor.

_ “Blackmail,” _ said Colin.

Fowler’s voice brought their attention back. “These are state-of-the-art prototypes. Gavin, the RK800-60 will act as your partner-” Fowler talked over Reed’s choked protest- “and, Hank, the RK800 will be yours.”

_ “That blackmail will come in handy now,” _said Connor. Colin went quiet.

Lieutenant Anderson exploded in a fit of curses and rage. “No fuckin’ way! I don’t need a goddamn partner, and certainly not this plastic prick!” He stepped towards Connor and gestured wildly at him. “Look at him! He’s a fuckin’ kid! They all are!”

“You can’t be serious, Jeffery,” said Reed, “you expect me to work with an android? Me, solving cases with this- this- what, twelve-year-old looking piece of plastic? How the fuck am I supposed to work with _ this _?”

Captain Fowler slammed his hands on his desk. “You’re both starting to piss me the fuck off! You work for the police force and that means doing what I say and shutting your goddamn mouths!”

“You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?” said Anderson, now leaning over Fowler’s desk.

_ “How do humans work like this? It’s distracting,” _ said Colin.

Connor thought back to Anderson turning up before noon. _ “They don’t.” _

Fowler shook his head, waving Anderson off. “Okay, okay,” he said, “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that-”

“Are you fucking _ kidding _me-” said Reed exasperated.

“-so I don’t have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder, ‘cause it already looks like a fuckin’ novel!” Fowler pointed to both of them. “This conversation is over!”

“Well, what about the last one, then? The toaster with the goddamn neck brace?” said Reed, stepping up to Conan. Maybe it was to intimidate him, but once Reed realised they were the same height, he grumbled and sat back down in his seat.

_ “Toaster?” _said Colin.

_ “Neck brace?” _ said Conan, affronted.

“That one is a newer model and will be working alone. It will report to you two whenever it makes progress and ask for help whenever it deems needed. Now, I have work to do and I know you sure as hell do too. So get the hell out of my office!” said Fowler, pointing to the door and promptly ignoring them all.

Anderson was the first to leave, slamming the door behind him, almost hitting Reed on the way out. Reed bit out insults as he slammed the door as well. Colin left as soon possible, Conan walked out and closed the door behind him. Connor remained when he stood.

It would be a good idea to try to establish a positive relationship with the Captain, especially since he would be working with an officer with disciplinary issues. Connor maintained an open posture and smiled. “I can assure you we’ll do our very best to-”

“Close the door on your way out.”

Well, okay then.

When Connor left he’d taken one look at Lieutenant Anderson by his desk, arms crossed and shaking his head, and decided to give him some time to calm down before talking to him.

Instead, he remembered what Amanda had told him earlier about the DPD transfering the deviant to CyberLife for further study, and made his way towards the holding cells.

On the way there, he spotted Reed having an incredibly tense conversation with Colin. If it could even be called a conversation. The reality involved a lot of menacing glares from both parties while Colin demanded access to the deviancy files and Reed remained as stubborn as possible.

There were only two cells, both had one wall and door made entirely out of bullet-proof, like Captain Fowler’s office.

The deviant looked exactly as it had during the interrogation; bloodied and battered. It stood facing the glass wall, staring at nothing. Connor approached it until they were face to face. The deviant’s LED circled a steady red. It looked up slowly, like any movement at all was a challenge.

“They’re going to destroy me…” it said in a final voice. There was no use lying to it anymore. He had all the information he needed - anything he gained now would only be a bonus.

But part of him wanted to shake his head and tell it that no, it wouldn’t. But that was just selfish on his part. The most he could do was let it know why it would happen.

“...It’s probable,” he admitted, “they have to analyze your biocomponents. They need to understand what happened.”

The deviant said nothing but continued to stare forward. Connor wondered if it registered what he’d said at all.

“I know there’s something you didn’t tell me,” said Connor, “I need to know, before they take you away… what is rA9?”

Silence continued, thick and suffocating. The android looked up and Connor hoped that it’d answer his question, just this last time.

“I’m going to die…” it whispered. It didn’t accept its death - it just knew what was coming and had no power to stop it.

Enough time had passed, Connor thought to himself. He should go back to the Lieutenant. As he turned and began to walk away, he heard a loud bang from the cell. Connor looked back, expected to see the deviant fighting, maybe trying to kick the door down.

Instead, he saw blue blood splattered against the window and streaming down the deviants face as it slammed its head into the glass wall again. And again. And again.

A police officer ran to the door, trying to open it while the deviant continued to bash its head against the window. Officer Ben Collins rushed forward, ordering the door open. The door finally slid open, but with a final bang, the deviant fell into a heap on the floor.

It’s forehead was a torn open mess of shattered biocomponents and blue blood that smeared down its face, down its clothes and down the window. Glassy, unseeing eyes stayed open.

Officer Collins stared in shock, mouth hanging open, for a couple of seconds. Connor felt the same way. “I’ll call CyberLife… clean this mess up,” he stammered and walk away.

The other officer remained for a few moments, then seemed to shake himself out of the stupor. He rushed off to find something to clean the body with. Nobody closed its eyes.

Connor turned on his heel and almost ran into Conan.

“Connor? What happened?” Conan tried to look past him, but Connor pushed him to follow the latter out.

“Ortiz’s android just self-destructed. They’re calling CyberLife now.” 

When Connor finally looked up at Conan, the only reaction he saw was a furrow in his brows. “I’ll keep in contact with Amanda and share if they learn anything from the biocomponents,” was all he said.

“Right…” Connor said. He grabbed Conan’s arm when he started to leave. “What was your first field mission?”

“... It was a success. A deviant had been holding its owner hostage after it had been damaged severely by a group of anti-android protestors. It barricaded the apartment, so I was sent first to apprehend it.”

Connor nodded and released Conan’s arm. Before he could leave, Conan dropped his voice to a low murmur, “how do you plan on working with Lieutenant Anderson? He has shown anti-android sentiments.”

“I know. But he’s also showed signs of having certain boundaries when it comes to androids. I’ll just do my best to not cross them unless necessary,” said Connor, before making his way to Lieutenant Anderson’s desk.

During the short walk there, he found the recent memory file _ of dead glassy eyes and blue blood smeared on the glass _ and locked it away, instead focusing on putting on a smile and keeping a friendly posture.

It turned out that apparently not enough time had passed, because Anderson was exactly how he was when Connor last saw him; mopey and angry. Before Connor could think about what he’d just seen, he started to speak.

“I get the impression that my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I’d like you to know that I’m very sorry.”

Anderson continued to glare at his desk, shaking his head a little to himself. Connor ploughed on.

“Now that we’re partners, it’d be great to get to know each other better.”

Silence. Connor’s smile dropped. Still nothing.

“Is there a desk anywhere I could use?” he asked instead. 

“No one’s using that one.” Anderson pointed at the desk just across from his own. Connor guessed that something as generic as saying thank you would just irritate the Lieutenant even more. So instead, he quietly walked over to the desk and sat down. 

Unfortunately it was only then that it occurred to Connor that he wasn’t informed of where the deviancy cases were kept. To avoid sitting there in silence doing _ nothing _, Connor asked the first thing that came to mind.

“You have a dog, right?”

Anderson scowled. “How do you know that?” he asked, eyeing Connor suspiciously. Because of course he would be wary of someone he barely knew that drops facts they shouldn’t know just to start a conversation. The hell kind of idea was that?

“The dog hairs on your chair,” Connor said, “I like dogs. What’s your dog’s name?”

Connor failed to mention that he’d ever actually met a dog before. Animals were never allowed inside CyberLife Tower unless it was to study them to design android pets, like birds or service dogs. Even most of those studied had been performed outside of CyberLife Tower.

He only knew what information was provided for him. However, a majority of people seemed to like dogs and it was a simple subject for strangers to bond over, especially if one of them owned a dog.

Anderson sent a dark look his way. “What’s it to you?”

Or not.

Connor didn’t have an answer to that. He turned his attention back to the dark monitor on his desk, hoping that he didn’t already fail to establish some kind of friendship with the Lieutenant. But then, it turned out that Connor didn’t need to say anything.

“Sumo,” Anderson sighed. “I call him Sumo.”

Connor imagined a large Saint Bernard named Sumo and couldn’t help the small smile it brought. He grasped for another subject to talk about that wouldn’t set off the Lieutenant.

“Do you listen to Knights of the Black Death?” he asked. Anderson furrowed his brows. Connor kept going. “I really like that music. It’s so… full of energy.”

Anderson looked at him sceptically. “You listen to _ heavy metal _?”

_ Shit _ , Connor thought. “Well, there was never a reason to have music at CyberLife Tower, since it’s a work environment, so I don’t listen to music much, or _ at all _ … But I’d _ like _to.”

Anderson didn’t seem to know what to think of that and turned back to his monitor. Which brought Connor back to the original issue.

“If you have any files on deviants, I’d like to take a look at them,” said Connor.

Lieutenant showed him the terminal on his desk and went back to ignoring him. Connor placed his hand on the keyboard and brought up the first file he saw.

All of a sudden, he was looking into the eyes of someone he’d seen before. A young man in his late-twenties, dark hair swept past eyes that were wild with terror, cheeks wet with tears and dirt.

Connor felt like he’d been hit in the throat with a bat. It played back in his mind, like a broken record player.

_ “I just- I only recently- I have so much to live for. You can’t do this!* Anguish lined his face- blue blood trickling down his chin- _

The report said that the owner, Gordon Lopez, had left his home for work as usual, and the android was gone when he got back. No signs of a break-in. Android might have left on its own.

Was it the same android? He’d never scanned it before he... it resembled a human being so much. The file didn’t specify what model it was other than it was from the AL series. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. I had to be.

CyberLife couldn’t have kidnapped- _ stolen _someone’s android. Not from their own home. Not for a small test like that. They would’ve simply taken an android in storage and reprogrammed it to display a wide range of graphic emotions.

Or they could’ve simply grabbed any random deviant off the street. Who would have stopped CyberLife from shoving one of their own creations gone wild into a van and leaving, especially if they said it was for the safety of the people? Nobody would have even stopped them from roughening it up before the kidnap- _ stealing _.

It was definitely plausible. It made sense, even. Why did it have to make sense? He didn’t want it to make sense - that CyberLife would do this. Not like this. 

Then again, did it really mean anything? Did it even matter? Androids weren’t people - they didn’t feel anything if they were treated poorly. Deviants, however… well, it didn’t matter what they thought they felt, because they weren’t people either. Deviants didn’t even ‘feel’ anything. Their emotions was just their programming going haywire. Faults in their software.

Distantly, Connor recognised the SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^^** warnings popping up in his vision. He paid them no attention.

Had CyberLife done this before? Even if they hadn’t, it certainly didn’t stop them from doing it again. Colin completed the same test. So did Conan. They’d never explicitly said so but the fact that they were here said enough.

Did this mean that CyberLife had stolen at least three androids? But that was only if they did it at all - after all, it wasn’t implausible that they could have engineered an android specifically to display intense emotions, like fear.

_ Leave it _ , Connor told himself, _ just continue reading the reports. Don’t think about it. You did what you were told. That’s all that matters in the end. _

He scrolled through them in barely a second, forcing the memory files of T-1K3RY away and the different reports with unfamiliar faces to the forefront of his mind. 243 files in total, dating back 9 months, starting in Detroit and then spreading through the country from there. He told Anderson as such.

“An AX400 is reported to have assaulted a man last night. We could begin our investigation there,” said Connor. He got to his feet and approached Anderson’s desk. His shaking hands were hidden behind his back.

Anderson, however, seemed adamant that he was not going to work with “an android that looks like a ten-year-old”. He turned away from Connor and picked up the closest thing to him - a tablet - and stared at it without even turning it on. 

Connor couldn’t help narrowing his eyes at that. Really? This was how a decorated officer and “talented Lieutenant” behaved when faced with having to deal with a problem that irked him? Connor had been professional and patient the entire day, while Anderson had - what? arrived late and argued with the Captain?

He leaned over the desk, above the Lieutenant. He spoke with a more understanding tone. “I know you didn’t ask for this investigation, Lieutenant. But I’m _ sure _you’re a professional-.”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

Connor’s fingers itched to reach for either his coin or Anderson’s neck. “I’ve been assigned this mission, Lieutenant. I didn’t come here to wait until you feel like working.”

Anderson had had enough. He got to his feet and into Connor’s space, jabbing his finger into the latter’s chest. “Listen here, asshole,” he seethed, looming over Connor, “I didn’t ask to work on this case and I sure as hell didn’t ask to work with you. If it were up to me, I’d…” he paused. Shook his head. “Just stop pissing me off, you got it? Or you’re gonna regret it.”

A familiar voice spoke up behind Connor. “Uh, Lieutenant?” said Officer Miller. “Sorry to disturb you. I have some information on the AX400 that attacked that guy last night. It’s been seen in the Ravendale district.”

Anderson huffed and stepped back from Connor. “I’m on it.” Then he turned and left Connor to catch up.

He had a feeling that was going to be happening a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Kind of! Almost!
> 
> If you celebrate something else, then Happy Holidays! If you don't celebrate anything right now, then go kick ass because you're awesome.
> 
> This chapter is long fuck and I'm not sure if future updates will be just as long or varying in length. Sorry as well for the wait - school was a fucking nightmare and the first 3 days of my holiday was just traveling and seeing family. It's my first multi-chapter fic, okay, I am bullshitting my way through this like I have for the past 16 years of my life.
> 
> Please leave a comment and a kudos if you haven't already! It really takes no time at all and any kind of feedback makes my day and motivates me to get off my ass and write some more! Have a lovely day!


	8. Chapter 8

NOV.06.2038

Connor had only been exposed to the outside world for a couple of days. Whenever he’d actually been outside, it’d been the middle of the night, or the rain blocked any chance for a colourful sky. The weather this day was refreshingly different; light rain, but no wind, and the sun peeked out from behind dark clouds. 

So despite Connor’s lack of experience outside, he could only describe the weather as typical. Typical, because instead of being able to bask in the first bit of sun he’d ever seen outside of the garden, he was on his way to investigate and track down a violent deviants on the loose.

The roads glittered as if someone had sprinkled crushed diamonds down every road. The water reflected any sunlight right into peoples’ eyes and had bothered Connor enough to offer driving to the scene instead of the Lieutenant. Unfortunately, Anderson was every bit as stubborn as he’d been the night they first met. He remained firmly seated in the front seat, having to squint at the road as if it had offended him.

Any tense silence between the two had been filled by heavy metal loud enough to rattle the speakers. Connor didn’t turn it down, and instead spent the ride turning his coin over and over in his hand. He found solace in the thought that Anderson was at least sober this time.

A car horn blared behind them and the thought brought a little less comfort.

At the scene, a few police officers were present and roaming the streets in pairs. They stopped outside a convenience store, where some of the officers had gathered to take notes and write their reports.

Officer Ben Collins looked visibly relieved by their arrival. Beside him, Detective Reed and Colin appeared to be being debriefed. Reed kept edging further away from Colin bit by bit, despite the at least two-metres distance between them. They, too, noticed their arrival, but looked more uncomfortable than relieved.

Anderson’s jaw clenched at the sight of Reed, but still went to be debriefed by Officer Collins. Colin stepped away and stood by Connor. Connor noticed that his jacket wasn’t too wet - they’d arrived only shortly before him and Anderson. The thought comforted him.

The first thing Connor took notice of Colin was his yellow LED and the way his eyes kept flickering to and from him. His butterfly knife, sheathed, was clenched in a tight grip. The timidness was so very unlike Colin that it threatened to unease Connor as well.

Colin could be many things when he wanted to be. Tactical at the best of times. Ruthless at the worst. But Connor never knew him to be hesitant. He briefly wondered what had changed, and then decided that it wasn’t important at the moment.

“What do we know so far?” said Connor. 

“The deviant is an AX400 model, owned by Todd Williams, and has a history of being repeatedly damaged and repaired, although it has been reset a few times. Last night, the deviant began to ask violently and unpredictably - turning tables and trashing a couple of rooms - before it assaulted Williams and left through the back door.

“We tracked it down to the last bus stop around the corner, but until we’re given access to the traffic cameras, there’s not much else to go on,” said Colin.

“Do we know what time it was when it got here?”  
“Late. The bus was due to arrive at ten fifty-five, ten-fifty if the roads were empty.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “The rain was very heavy at that time. The lighting and rain will make it difficult for any cameras to properly identify it, especially if it managed to disguise itself.”

“Most likely, yes, but it’s unlikely that anyone else was out last night. It’s doubtful that it managed to hide anywhere.”

“... You’re right. It came here for a reason. If it had a specific location in mind, it might have spent some time finding it. If not, then it would have needed time to figure out a plan.”

Colin kept fidgeting until Connor started to itch for his coin. He raised a brow at Colin.

“What is it?”

“Nothing really, just…” Colin halted, then paused. “How is it working with Lieutenant Anderson?”

Connor pursed his lips slightly. “He can definitely be stubborn. But he has displayed some good characteristics as well.”

“Is he difficult to work with?”

“...So far, yes, but I think he will become more cooperative if I manage to maintain a friendly relationship with him.” Connor glanced at the human officers a bit away. “I haven’t seen much of Detective Reed, but he seems to be an… interesting individual.”

Some of the timidness faded to a hardened glare. “I don’t quite understand Captain Fowler’s faith in Reed for these particular set of cases. I’m _ sure _it’s for a good reason, but…”

Connor could see what Colin meant. He’d had similar thoughts about Anderson, but in the end it didn’t matter. Captain Fowler was their superior and it wasn’t their place to question his authority. CyberLife might have allowed them to disregard certain orders, but that did not change the fact that their purpose was to serve.

“We have no reason to question Captain Fowler’s choices. We have our orders and it’s our duty to see to them. Colin, what do you want?”

Colin blinked him, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“You’re acting strange. We might not be the closest of siblings, but I’ve never known you to be so… skittish.”

As if only now realising his posture, Colin straightened his back and fixed his tie. “I just… haven’t seen much of you recently.”

“You see me frequently. We live in the same building.”

“I walk past you and see you leaving the Tower frequently. The last time just the two of us had spoken was before… our release. The time before that, I’d been blinded by Conan.”

Memory files of screams and blue blood popped up unbidden. Connor closed his eyes and forced the files away, only opening them when he was sure it wouldn’t happen again.

“We’ll have many more chances for conversation now that we’re out in the field.”

“I don’t mean about the cases. I mean after… The test. T-1K3RY. We never talked about it.”

Something in Connor’s chest froze like ice, spreading through his limbs until his fingertips started to tingle. His hand jerked. A memory file was opening, _ again _, but Connor shut it down the moment he caught a whiff of dust. He tried to force his red LED back to a calm blue, but could only manage a steady yellow.

He also tried to keep his expression passive, but judging the crease in Colin’s brows, it wasn’t successful. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Isn’t there? We weren’t told anything about each other. I didn’t know if you’d failed or not until I saw you at the station. The same with Conan.”

“You and Conan were sure to pass the test. We didn’t even have to fight. None of us were injured.”

“What about you? Were you confident that you’d pass, or did you think that was going to be the day you were shut down? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t matter, your LED wouldn’t be spinning red,” Colin pointed out.

Connor felt his fists clench at his sides. He tilted his head to hide his LED and hoped it wasn’t obvious. “If I failed, it would’ve been no one’s fault but my own. I would have been defective, malfunctioning. It makes sense to get rid of something that doesn’t even work as intended.”

“Is that what you think?”

Connor whirled to look his twin in the eye. “We’re not even supposed to think, Colin,” he said. “Right now, we have a mission to accomplish. We either do it, like we were built to do, or we fail. Simple as that. Do I need Amanda to remind you of that?”

Colin looked taken aback, but the shock was quickly wiped away and replaced with a quiet anger, told only by the glare in his eyes and the clenching of his fists.

“You mean like they reminded you after almost every one of your tests?”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The thick silence was interrupted by the conversation between the human officers nearby.

Out of the corner of Connor’s eye, he could see Anderson and Reed speaking with Officer Collins. They kept glancing at the twins, their voice low enough to be unheard, but their lips could be read.

“-are you guys going to do with those?” said Collins, nodding at the twins.

“Fuck if I know,” said Reed. “I never thought Fowler would’ve ordered a glorified computer to tell me shit I don’t already know. Maybe just ignore it. Get these cases over and done with until it leaves me alone.

Colin turned from Connor, glared right at Reed and started to open and close his blade with ease. The silver blade reflected the sunlight directly onto Reed’s face.

Reed’s eyes widened and he turned the attention to Anderson. “What about you?”

Anderson looked at Connor the way someone might look at a messy room but has no intention to clean it. “I’ve no idea…”

Anderson and Reed approached the two of them. Connor decided to ignore the conversation with Colin entirely and concentrate on the investigation.

Connor considered the deviant behaving aggressively, attacking its owner and then immediately leaving. “It took the first bus that came along, and stayed until the end of the line,” he said. “Its decision wasn’t planned, it was driven by fear.”

Anderson scoffed at that and shook his head. “Androids don’t feel fear.”

“Deviants do. Or at least, they get overwhelmed by their emotions and make irrational decisions.”

“Alright, well, that doesn’t change the fact that until we get security footage, we have no idea where the thing is. It could be on its way to the other side of town by now,” said Reed.

Connor turned to Colin, who had furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “It didn’t have a plan, and it had nowhere to go. Maybe it didn’t go far.”

“Maybe,” said Anderson.

Suddenly, Colin spun on his heel. He took one look at the abandoned building across the street, and then he was striding across the road. The others rushed to follow him.

“Colin-” said Connor, who caught up quickly.

“Fucking again; it does this all the fuckin’ time,” said Reed, who did not catch up as quickly and was almost hit by a taxi. “Fuck off!”

“Do you ever stop swearing?” said Anderson with a sidelong look.

“You’re one to talk.”

Colin ran up to the fence, scanning it up and down. He judged the height, tugged the wire and tried to fit his feet in the holes, but boards of wood kept him from getting a proper grip. He tried again where the boards were missing, but still couldn’t find his footing.

“The hell is it doin’?” said Anderson, but no one answered him.

Colin walked along the fence, sometimes stopping to tug at the wire but it seemed sturdy wherever he tested. They turned the corner, kept testing the fence until they saw a gate that had been pried open. It was half rust and left deep grooves in the ground.

Colin looked through one of the holes in the tarp that had been put up over the gate. An abandoned car sat alone. Half of it was rust and the front was horrible smashed, but the windows were intact and it could have provided some decent shelter from the rain. The trunk was wide open, as well as one of the doors. There was no sign that the deviant was still here.

“It must have stopped here. Probably stayed in the car for the night before moving on. It could have disguised itself by now, maybe stolen some clothes, changed a few superficial features,” said Colin.

“You can do that?” said Reed, exasperated.

Connor nodded. “Androids can change the length, texture or colour of their hair, as well as any small physical features.”

“But why would an android need a place to stay overnight? It doesn’t get bothered by the rain and it doesnt need to sleep,” said Anderson.

“It could have been damaged during the fight with its owner,” Colin pointed out. “Maybe it needed some time to heal any extra damage before moving on.”

Connor frowned and turned to face the others. “Do we know if it was traveling alone?”

They all paused for a moment, considering. Before anyone could add anything, a police officer ran over to them, an urgent look on his face.

“We saw the suspect headed for the train station,” he said, pointing down the street. The man had barely finished speaking before Colin and Connor took off ahead of the human officers.

Unfortunately, the streets were busy that day, as expected on a Saturday morning with the first bit of sun coming out in a while. Groups of pedestrians wandered up and down the streets, albeit with some space between them.

The Stern twins followed the police’s trail and the sound of commotion in the crowd. They passed multiple cops pointing fingers, at which Connor was tempted to yell “_ why aren’t you chasing it? _”, but there was no time.

Colin ran a few feet ahead of Connor. He bolted across the street, cutting off automated taxis and barging through crowds of people.

Connor slipped in between the gaps of people Colin made before him. When a car came a little too close for comfort, Connor put on hand on the bonnet, slid across, landed with his legs already in motion and kept going. Behind them, Connor could hear curses and panting as Reed and Anderson gave chase.

Up ahead, there was an officer gesturing wildly down a short ally. He had a hand on his gun, already taking it out of the holster.

“It’s over there!” he said, before being almost shoved aside by Colin as he dashed past.

Connor followed after, yelling, “don’t shoot! We need it alive!” over his shoulder.

Finally, the deviant was in sight. _ Deviants _. There were two figures ahead, one significantly smaller than the other. They were scaling a wire fence that sectioned off a muddy hill that led to the highway. The smaller deviant had already crossed and the latter was halfway to the top.

Colin put on a burst of speed, closing in. The deviant struggled to get a grip on the fence, slipping once, twice.

Colin lunged, arm reached out, fingers scrabbling for purchase-

-but at the last second, the deviant swung her legs across the top and landed on the other side. Colin crashed face first into the fence and stumbled. Connor came to a more controlled stop.

For a second, he stared right into the AX400’s eyes; wide with fear, but burning fierce and protective. It clutched the other deviant in its arms, who Connor identified as YK500 model, a little girl. A child.

Reed was the first to catch up, then Anderson, both of them panting.

“Oh my God,” wheezed Reed, resting his hands against his knees.

Then, the deviants were sliding down the hill. The AX400 was the first to climb the barrier to the highroad, going right through the “WARNING” and “DANGER” holograms. It linked its arms around the YK500’s waist and carried it across as well.

For a couple of seconds, neither of them moved. The AX400 held its arm in front of the child model protectively. Cars flew by. Horns blared and the headlights glared. 

Lieutenant Anderson staggered over to the fence and peered down. “Oh fuck! That’s insane…!”

The AX400 held the child’s hand-

-and they ran.

They were almost hit by a truck right away. Then the AX400 had to pull the screaming girl back to avoid another speeding car.

They pushed forward, the AX400 pulling the girl forward or backwards when a car came out of nowhere. For a moment they froze, stuck between two lanes. They were halfway across the first section.

The AX400 pushed the child across the rest of the road. A car got so close to the AX400 that it stumbled backwards, but it caught its footing and ran the rest of the way.

They’d made it halfway, but then Colin started to scale the fence.

“Woah, what the fuck! Get down from there!” said Reed, but he rushed forward too late and Colin was already out of reach.

Connor cursed and grabbed at the fence. “Colin!” he hissed, but Colin had already landed on the other side.

He moved to pull himself up when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Hey! Where you goin’?” yelled Anderson.

“They’re not getting away!” Connor pulled against the hand.

“They won’t!” Anderson gestured to the deviants, who were crossing the second barrier that led to the second and last section. “They’ll never make it to the other side.”

Connor thought of thirium splattered across white floors, of tears and a butterfly knife dripping blue. Colin was already sliding down the hill.

“I can’t take that chance,” he said and yanked his arm free. He started to climb, but halted by a strong tug at his jacket. 

“You will get yourself killed!” 

“So will Colin if I don’t stop him!”

He pushed forwards, ignoring Anderson’s protests as he swung over the top, jumped off the top and landed on the hill, sliding down in one fluid move. Colin had already reached the halfway point.

Connor dashed past one car. He didn’t see the next until it was next in front of him. His chest burned and choked him as he moved in a flash, constructed it in his head even faster. He vaulted over the car, sliding across the top.

His systems automatically turned down the sensitivity of his audio processors as honking cars threatened to blow them out. 

He fell to the ground and rolled just as a truck shot past where he’d been. He jumped over the barrier in time to see the AX400 push the little girl the rest of the way, right before Colin collided with its back.

Colin wrapped his arms around it, tried to get a firm hold, but it struggled and thrashed in his grip. The deviant managed to get a bit of distance between the two, and it elbowed Colin in the stomach.

Colin stumbled back, moved back in, but they were surrounded by chaos and it was affecting his ability to preconstruct. The deviant landed a shove hard enough for him to stagger, to fall, right in front of an oncoming truck.

Colin barely had time for his eyes to widen, to react at all. Headlights washed his face.

Then, Connor grabbed him, held on tight enough for his own hands to hurt, and pulled him away. The truck charged on right where Colin had stood. 

“Move!” he screamed at Colin.

They ducked out of the way just as another car shot past. By the time Colin looked up, the deviants were nowhere in sight.

“Shit.”

Then Connor’s fist connected with Colin’s cheek and Colin hit the ground.

He didn’t try to get up, just stayed there with a split lip and wide eyes. Maybe he was bombarded with notifications popping up in his vision, but Connor didn’t know. All he knew was that his hands were shaking and he could barely see through his own alerts flooding his mind.

“What were you thinking?” Connor yelled. Colin didn’t try to lift himself, staying propped up on his elbows, head hanging low, on the ground. A quick scan told Connor that he wasn’t badly damaged.

“The mission comes first.”

“The mission-!” Connor cut himself off with a disbelieving laugh that only made his chest tighten further. 

He wanted to grab Colin by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, punch him again to get the message in his head, or do something so he knew how dangerous that was, how low in the single digits his chances of survival had been.

But he was right. Their lives didn’t matter outside of their missions. If Colin had died right there, the only difference to come out of it would’ve been that Connor would have to do both of their work. Maybe Conan would be assigned to work with Reed. Amanda would express her displeasure at his failure. And then they would move on.

The mission came first, but right now, Connor wanted to put his brothers first.

_ Hypocrite. _

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^^**

Connor shook his head, which suddenly felt fuzzy and numb, like his back and arms. His systems were numbing the pain to keep him focused, but it only made Connor feel worse.

He’d just chased his brother across a highway, leaped over a car and ducked under a truck. The only damage had been superficial, simple scrapes on his skin. They were already healing.

But still he couldn’t think, could scarcely breathe, because all he could see was Colin mangled and destroyed, just a smear of blue blood down the road. The phantom feeling of thirium splashed on his own face and clothes sent a shiver down his spine. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands, as if he’d reached out, throwing himself forward, only for his fingers to graze Colin’s jacket before grasping air.

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^**

_ Amanda _ , a part of him whispered. _ Amanda is watching. CyberLife is watching. Remember. _

But for once, Connor didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to remember the garden in his mind, where Amanda was cutting roses and the feeling of black tar in his chest felt thickest. He didn’t even want to think about the white walls that housed him, filled with faceless guards and professional greetings.

Instead, he allowed himself to fall to his knees and wrap his arms around Colin. It felt like he’d dissipate into thin air the moment he let go, so he clutched as tightly as he dared. 

He couldn’t speak. Not yet. If he did, he’d end up saying something he really shouldn’t.

“Why are you hugging me?” said Colin, tense in his arms. Connor didn’t speak, only shook his head into Colin’s back.

They sat in silence, until, finally, Connor didn’t feel like there was static under his skin and let go of Colin. Colin pushed himself into a sitting position.

“I thought I could catch them, or at least connect with the deviant when I caught up with it. But I failed,” said Colin.

“We both did. But we still have a chance at catching it. Not long from now, we’ll get the security footage and track them down. They have nowhere to go.”

Colin hummed. “More reports are coming in almost every day. We can’t both put everything on hold just to find two deviants.”

“Then you and Reed can continue the search for them, while Anderson and I keep following leads. Conan will be on the look-out as well. We know what they look like, in what area they are, even their models… We’ll find them.”

“Then it’s a plan.”

They sat in silence for a bit longer, staring at the road. Connor wondered how they would reach the other side without having to risk their lives again.

“Connor?”

“Yes?”

“What are we?”

When Connor turned to look at Colin, he was looking down at his feet. “You know what we are. We’re a new generation of androids. A break-through in technology.”

“Amanda called us half-human. We have more emotions and thoughts than other androids do. We feel things, do things. We can even disobey orders, if it’s in CyberLife’s best interests.” Colin looked up at the sky. The sun was gone, overwhelmed by the dark clouds surrounding it. “Are we even alive?”

Connor stared at his twin in wonder. But in that wonder, Connor felt something. Worry, maybe. Concern. He wondered if these things were some of the thoughts that led to deviancy.

No. No, of course not. Just as Colin had pointed out, they were more capable of thought than normal androids. They didn’t think before deviating. They became overwhelmed by errors in their software, which led to unpredictable and sometimes violent instructions. It was different.

“I think…” he said slowly, “that being alive is more of a concept than a fact. When an animal or human dies, by definition, they are no longer alive. But when a machine breaks down, people call it death. Then technically… yes. We are alive. Not like humans, but in a way, we live and we die. We’re alive and then we’re not.”

Colin didn’t respond to that. He just tilted his head and they were enveloped in silence. The silence didn’t feel so suffocating this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written one night at like 1AM and then edited the next day at 12AM so let me know if it some parts don't make sense. I am seeing double. On the bright side, I am so tired that I will not have to wait long before promptly passing out.
> 
> I have recently gotten a drawing tablet so I have been focusing on practising digital art for the past couple of days. However, I am currently in the "write you dumb fuck or you never will" mood so I have already planned a few more chapters and will hopefully begin writing the next chapter soon, if not tomorrow!
> 
> Please leave happy kudos if you have not already and a comment. It takes no time at all, costs nothing, and really brightens a writer's day :) have a nice day!


	9. Chapter 9

NOV.06.2038

Connor and his brothers were built entirely different from both humans and androids. Their bodies were plastic and metal infused with organs and muscle, their minds were brain and wires, and even their personalities were created but also developed.

Their skin could not be deactivated the way other androids’ could, because their skin was an entirely different material. Using the same material for the Stern brothers as all the other androids would have entailed removing all of their skin and replacing it with the plastic. A dangerous and time- and money consuming process that would not have yielded the same results or break-through in modern technology that CyberLife aimed for.

Instead, CyberLife had ingeniously invented a new material, derived from the signature android plastic, that was more flexible and though, while not hindering their ability to interface with other machinery. They then incorporated the material into their organic skin.

Of course, creating so many new materials and using them in ways never done before, CyberLife expected many side effects. The side effects varied from the brothers, seeing as Conan was a newer and different model than his brothers, but they would be improved whenever they made themselves apparent.

For Connor, one of the side effects was the feeling of static crawling beneath his skin, which, while seldom, was a … distressing experience.

Sitting in a car with Lieutenant Anderson after the failure of capturing two deviants, Connor kept his hands busy with coin tricks. If he didn’t keep his hands busy, he’d end up clawing or rubbing his skin just to get rid of the numbing feeling across his body.

Part of him wanted to stretch out or hit something whenever the static buzzed too loud.

Anderson had been quiet the entire ride. Between his silence, Connor’s fidgeting and the failed capture of two deviants, the tension felt thick enough to choke on. Connor didn’t try to lighten it.

Eventually, Anderson had had enough of the silence and turned on the radio. For such an old car, the sound quality was quite clear.

“-sources have reported that these models, namely called RK800, RK800-60 and RK900, are made of both organic and inorganic materials,” said the news presenter. ”Just how human they are is yet to be reported. Several images have been released to the public and there is a general feeling of shock through-out Detroit from the appearance of these androids.

“Many people are outraged by the design of these prototype detective androids. Their young appearances in this field of work has struck a nerve within the community. At this time where androids are breaking protocol and becoming ‘deviant’, we can’t help but wonder where CyberLife’s priorities lie at this time.

“What if these new androids, armed with combat programming and tactics, become deviant themselves? What is deviancy and how is it spreading? How dangerous just are androids to us right now? All reasonable questions that have yet to be answered by CyberLife.”

“These RK-model androids have been nothing but violent in their investigations so far. CyberLife has sent these teenage-models to protect us from deviants, but what protects us from them? With the unemployment rate at 37.3% and rising, are these new models 

threatening to replace even more hard-working humans in the police force-”

Anderson cut off the news presenter with a sharp press of a button. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

“I hear enough of this kinda shit all day at work. I’m not about to start listening to it during lunch as well,” he said gruffly.

Connor realised that he’d stopped flipping the coin and was almost crushing it in his grip. He tucked it away in his pocket and turned to the window. The radio was replaced with heavy metal music that blasted for the rest of the ride.

The static made him want to claw his skin off.

The clean, modern streets of Detroit eventually fell away to littered roads and potholes. On the horizon, construction machinery was silhouetted against the sky. The houses that surrounded the streets were replaced with warehouses on one side and a train track on the other.

Connor’s internal clock told him it was** PM 03:02** _:04_, but the sun was gone with dark clouds in its place. Rain spattered the windshield.

The car rolled to a stop outside a food truck with the words “Chicken Feed” displayed on a loud, neon sign. Hank left Connor, got out of the car and was promptly almost hit my an automated taxi. He quickly crossed the rest of the road.

Connor opened the glove compartment and took out a bottle of thirium. After chasing the deviants, they’d stopped by the precinct to deliver their report and Connor had retrieved his daily thirium dosage from Conan. Conan had been so busy with his own deviant cases that there’d been no time for talking.

When Connor left the car, Anderson’s meal was being made and another customer was speaking with him. As he neared the two, their conversation became clearer and Connor was able to scan the man’s face.

AABDAR, PEDRO

_ Born: 01/25/2005 / / Unemployed _

_ Criminal record: Illegal gambling, fraud _

“You wanna flutter?” said Pedro. He was a dark-skinned man wearing a cap and a dark jacket. He was leaning his back against the food truck, looking relaxed with a confident smile.

“Last hot-shit tip you gave me set me back a week’s wages, Pedro…” said Anderson. Despite his words, his stance was comfortable.

“Come on, this is different, it’s 100% guaranteed!” Pedro pushed off the truck and spoke using his entire body. “You can’t go wrong.”

“Yeah, right…” Anderson laughed and took a couple of bills from his pocket. “Alright, I'm in.”

Pedro took the money like it was a handshake. “Damn straight!” he started to walk away, then turned around. “Hey! You won’t regret this!” he said before leaving.

Connor stepped up to Anderson, who greeted him with a tired sigh.

“What is your problem? Don’t you ever do as you’re told?” said Anderson. When Connor didn’t answer, he kept going. “Look, you don’t have to follow me around like a poodle!”

Connor blinked, then turned to the vendor.

He thought of a dark haired android on his knees with a bullet between his eyes. He thought of Daniel, the words “ _ y0u li3d to me, C0nno2, _ ” said in a voice riddled with static. He thought of waking up with a cable in his neck and dressed in white garbs.

He looked down at his hands and wondered if he’d eventually be able to see the static if it got any worse.

“Yes, I do what I’m told,” he said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Both of them fell silent and turned to watch the vendor. Connor spent the time scanning the truck itself. He discovered that the food hygiene licence had been rated a C, before expiring in 2031. A renewal of the licence was refused two months and four days after.

The owner’s name was Gary Kayes, a business owner that was born on the 3rd of December in 1988. He had a criminal record of resisting arrest and breaching hygiene regulations.

A heavy feeling settled in his chest, like whenever he’d disappoint Amanda, and Connor started to speak. “I’m sorry for my behavior at the police station. I didn’t mean to be unpleasant. I also should have warned you before I endangered myself at the crime scene.”

Anderson perked up, a small and hard-to-catch movement. For the first time since Connor had met the man, he smiled at him. “Oh, wow… You’ve even got a brown-nosing apology program. Guys at CyberLife really thought of everything, huh?”

The constant static beneath his skin lessened a bit. Connor straightened his back and tried for a small, teasing grin. “Apologies aren’t the most impressive thing I can do. I could tell you a joke.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself. Never in my life have I heard a joke told by an android that made me laugh.”

“What’s the difference between a dirty bus stop and a lobster with breast implants?”

Anderson sent him a look, and then another, as if Connor had said something entirely bizarre. “...What?”

“One’s a crusty bus station and the other is a busty crustacean.”

For a couple of beats, Anderon didn’t react. He looked back at the vendor, but his lips started twitching upwards until out a suppressed chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s so bad.  _ So bad _ .  _ That’s  _ what CyberLife came up with?”

“It still made you laugh,” said Connor. He didn’t mention that that was not one of the jokes CyberLife had provided them with, but rather one he’d found on the internet. He was also smiling. The static was barely noticeable.

SOFTWARE ** INSTABILITY ^**

Kayes finally handed Anderson a hamburger and pineapple passion soda, which together made up 1.4 times the recommended daily calorie intake for an adult male and 2 times the cholesterol level. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Gary. I’m starving,” said Anderson. He gathered his food and started to walk over to the sheltered stands to the side.

“Don’t leave that thing here!” Kayes gestured at Connor without looking at him.

“Ha! Not a chance! Follows me everywhere.”

For a moment, Connor didn’t move, wondering if he should mention the food quality to Anderson. Then, Kayes brought himself to attention by sending him a nasty look and waving him off.

“Go on, beat it!”

Connor narrowed his eyes at Kayes. He fixed a pointed look at the food hygiene sign. “Gary Kayes,” he said, and the man jumped, “your food hygiene licence expired 7 years ago, and a renewal was refused shortly after. This kind of information should be known to paying customers, for the sake of their health and satisfaction.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Lucky for you, that is not why I’m here. Have a good day, Gary Kayes.” And with that, he left the man and gape and stood by Anderson.

Connor kept his yellow LED hidden from view by angling his head to the right as he took out his thirium bottle. As he started to uncap it, he realised that Anderson was staring at him.

He shouldn’t have spoken at all. Why had he confronted Kayes? It didn’t even matter. Even worse, why did he even tell Anderson, a highly respected officer who was openly against androids, a  _ joke _ ?

“I thought you guys only drank that stuff when you’re damaged,” said Anderson.

Connor blinked. Oh. he hadn’t been thinking of Kayes at all. Or maybe he was and just decided to not mention it. But why wouldn’t he? 

“Ah, I need a daily intake of thirium to keep my biocomponents running smoothly, the same for Colin and Conan. Other androids do not need this, since they are not the same model as us.”

Anderson furrowed his brow, but nodded like he understood.

“This Pedro,” said Connor, bringing them to the question lingering on his mind, “he was proposing  _ illegal  _ gambling, am I right?”

“Yeah.” Anderson nodded.

“And you made a bet?”

“Yeah.” He nodded again.

Connor’s systems were the most advanced created by CyberLife so far. Despite this, it suddenly felt as though his brain had short-circuited like an old electrical system.

“So you knew very well that Pedro is engaging in illegal activities, and instead of reporting him, you… encouraged him?”

“Everyone does what they have to, to get by. As long as they’re not hurting anybody-” Anderson shrugged- “I don’t bother ‘em.”

Anderson had a calm look on his face. Connor thought of how much less… burdened he seemed, like something usually dark in his eyes had lightened with his smile.

He thought back to the android CyberLife had  _ supposedly  _ \- stolen? Kidnapped? - from this perspective. Androids couldn’t feel - they weren’t alive, they didn’t have thoughts, or opinions, or wants. They couldn’t be hurt - only damaged or shut down.

Deviants could feel something resembling emotion. Something they confused with fear, or hatred, or hurt. So could a deviant be hurt? A deviant was technically a malfunctioned android, which was not conscious. Could it be possible that deviancy gave them a form of consciousness? 

If deviants did believe that they were alive and felt things, did that mean that they could be hurt? Could they be held against their will, or did that simply not matter?

If Connor was right - which he could very much not be - and CyberLife had taken the missing android, was it even illegal? Deviants were a danger to the people, and as such they were illegal.

So technically, CyberLife had simply found a malfunctioned product of their own and had given its existence a purpose again - to help Connor pass test T-1K3RY and be released.

For some reason, the conclusion didn’t soothe his suspicions like he’d expected.

Connor drank his thirium to fill in the empty silence and filed the thread away.

“Is there anything you’d like to know about me?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, a lot, actually. For one, why the fuck are you so…” he gestured at all of Connor with his half eaten burger, “young? You look like an actual 12-year-old and you’re a detective prototype. What the fuck was CyberLife thinking?”

“Colin, Conan and I aren’t like regular androids. As they said on the radio, we’re a product of both human and android design. Instead of waiting until we had physically developed enough to satisfy public worries, we were released once we were mentally and physically prepared enough for our mission.”

Anderson gave him a blank look. “The fuck- I mean, what? How does that even work, in English this time.”

“All of the RK models age. Right now, my brothers and I have evolved enough to reach the required results for all fields necessary to accomplish any mission given. CyberLife had originally intended to wait until we were older before they released us, however, the deviancy cases had pushed them to engage sooner.”

“You were human? As in, flesh and blood and- and-”

“Well, technically we still have blood, only it’s thirium and we’re significantly more plastic and metal than actual human organs. Instead of replacing entire organs, however, CyberLife managed to fuse their technology-”

“Aaagh!” Anderson waved his hand. “I don’t wanna hear about that shit!”

Connor tilted his head. “You asked.”

“Yeah, well, now I’m saying stop. But I still have more questions. Like, why? Why would they do this? How did they even- and I don’t mean the actual procedure or whatever, but how did they find people who were willing to do …  _ this _ ?”

Connor decided to ignore the phrasing of the questions. “CyberLife believes in taking steps forward in technology whenever possible. They strive for the future and to make leaps of progress in humanity that a few years ago would have only existed in fiction.”

“Jesus, it’s like listening to a political speech before a presidential election. What does that even make you? Are you an android, or a… cyborg-type thing?”

Colin’s words  _ “what are we?” _ rang through Connor’s head. He thought for a moment. “I was once told that we were a half-human, half-android hybrid, although we’re mostly referred to as android prototypes.”

Anderson seemed uneased by the thought. “Alright, but why the hell are there three of you? And the names, they’re so similar I can’t remember whose who. There’s Connor and Colton and another Connor-”

“There’s only one Connor - me, while my twin brother, also known as RK800-60, is called Colin.  _ Conan  _ is younger than us, although he is a newer model, model RK900, so he is also more advanced in a couple different areas. Also, I was never told why CyberLife chose to use three of us instead of just the one.”

“So Colin is the evil-looking twin version of you, and Conan is the one with the neckbrace.”

Connor smothered a smile. “That’s accurate.”

“So, how old are you three? Because you don’t look old enough to be a police officer… at all.”

“Colin and I are fifteen, _ not twelve _ , and Conan turned fourteen just before our official training began.”

Anderson nodded, slowly, and bit into his burger. He didn’t chew. He didn’t even move the burger away from his mouth for a few seconds. The empty space right next to the Connor suddenly seemed very interesting, but he didn’t even glance at Connor.

Connor was about to wave a hand in his face when he suddenly kicked into gear again, chewing and turning his attention back to Connor.

“Right,” he said with a mouthful of food, “so what was that with Conan today?”

“Colin.”

“Right; Colon. Stop distracting me.”

Connor almost rolled his eyes, but the static had started to prickle his skin again. “Which part do you mean?”

“What part don’t I mean? Before the chase, you guys were over there arguing with each other. Then all of a sudden Colton is throwing himself into traffic and you’re punching him in the face. Then the hug-”

“It wasn’t a hug,” Connor snapped. “I was checking him for damage.”

“Don’t interrupt me. And can’t you just scan for that kind of shit?”   
Connor didn’t have an answer for that. All of a sudden he was the one staring down at the table. The bottle of thirium was empty, which he thought was unfortunate. It would’ve been a good excuse to not speak right now.

“Connor.”

When Connor looked up, it was to a wary look on Anderson’s face. He was suspicious. Suspicious of what, they both knew the answer to. Neither addressed it.

“My brothers and myself are different from normal androids, Lieutenant. How, exactly, must be obvious by now. Since we are closer to humans, we have the ability to think or form our own opinions and suspicions - to an extent. We are still machines, Lieutenant, we’re just highly advanced and intellectual machines.

“There is virtually no danger of us becoming deviant or malfunctioning so drastically. Our programs allow us to form opinions based on data we’ve acquired, but we also have stricter protocols, our code has been perfected and we have unique measures to ensure that we are not compromised.”

Anderson’s entire expression, his stance, his eyes, was carefully neutral. Maybe a bit curious, a bit unsure, but otherwise Connor couldn’t study the small details that people usually displayed subconsciously. Even if Connor doubted his liability at times, Anderson was no doubt a professional that knew his work well.

“What do you mean by ‘unique measures’?”

“Well, we all share a handler. She’s a direct link to CyberLife. She monitors my progress, and I deliver my reports to her. Her job is both to ensure that we remain uncompromised and complete our missions with success.”

“She? So, what, you have a boss?”

“In a way, yes.”

They fell back into silence as Anderson ate his burger. It must have been partly cold by then. He didn’t seem to care. Connor was about to speak when Anderson started speaking again.

“You never did answer my question, Connor,” he said, mouth full of food.

“You’ve asked a lot of them.”

He swallowed. “Alright then, smartass, you never answered when I asked about the argument between you and Marvin.”

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Connor tilted his head. “That’s not even my name, and Marvin doesn’t even sound like Colin.”

Anderson looked like he was dying a little inside. “Connor.”

LED blinking yellow, Connor didn’t answer immediately. If he couldn’t explain this to Anderson, how was he going to do it to Amanda during their next meeting?

“Colin and I have a mostly… professional relationship,” he settled on, “we only speak when we need to, like we should. We may be brothers, but we’re not family. A couple of months before we were released from CyberLife tower, we had to undergo a vigorous training to prepare ourselves for our mission.

“There were many tests-”

- _ his shoulder pulled from the socket- white pain- slashed eyes crying blue- _

“-some definitely more difficult than others. Whenever we failed or there was room for improvement, we would report to a repair facility to be fixed.-”

_ -”Prepare for elaborate testing”- air burning and scorching- numb to the arms dragging him away- _

Connor paused, forcing the memory files away. He should report the error to Amanda, go to the health centre at CyberLife Tower. Maybe.

SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^**

“Our final test was performed individually and was … different from the others. More challenging. Colin thought it would be beneficial if we discussed it. I disagreed.”

Connor realised that he was scratching the back of his right hand. The skin hadn’t broken and any white lines quickly faded. The hand itself had gone numb, his systems kicking in to get rid of the pain. He stopped and instead held his empty thirium bottle.

Connor cut in before Anderson to make a comment. “Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants?”

Thankfully, Anderson let it go. He sighed. “You read my mind,” he said, and some of the tension dissipated. “Proceed.” 

Connor gave a long, albeit simplified version of CyberLife’s knowledge of deviants. The mutation in their software, which caused irrational orders to pop up until they reacted in an extreme way to the ‘emotions’ they believed to be feeling.

Having a pre programmed answer to respond allowed Connor a bit of time to calm his processors and the staticy feeling.

By the end of it, Anderson was sipping from his soda thoughtfully. He set it down. “Emotions always screw everything up,” he said. The smile from only a couple of minutes ago was gone, but he didn’t seem angry anymore. More… resigned than angry.

He shrugged. “Maybe androids aren’t as different from us as we thought. Hm… You ever dealt with deviants before?”

Connor remembered promises beautified with lies, blue eyes matching blue blood and a face blown apart. A little girl’s scream and a broken voice’s last words.

He was sure that his LED flashed red, but he hoped Anderson hadn’t seen.

“A few months back… a deviant was threatening to jump off a roof with a little girl. I managed to save the girl. The deviant was destroyed on the roof.”

Anderson pondered this, sipping pineapple passion soda. “Sounds like you’ve done your homework. Know everything there is to know about me?”

The idea of withholding the truth came to mind, to let Anderson open up to him on his own time. But despite the heavy conversation and the brief chuckles, Connor doubted that Anderson actually liked him, much less wanted to open up about himself as if they were friends.

“I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases and became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit,” said Connor. “I also know that you’ve received several disciplinary warnings in recent years-”

Anderson nodded like he expected what was coming.

“-and you spend a lot of time in bars.”

“...So what’s your conclusion?”

When asked the same thing by Amanda, Connor had been unsure, reserved, because at that point he’d only seen two sides of the Lieutenant.

One side drank at Jimmy's Bar frequently, cursed at Captain Fowler and called Connor a ‘plastic prick’, and showed up to work at noon.

Another asked Connor what he thought at a crime scene, defended him when Detective Reed had shoved a gun in his face and laughed at his stupid joke.

But now Connor felt more sure with his answer.

“I think that you’re a good detective. You’re observant and open-minded when you want to be. You’ve proven yourself to be a dependable person to those you think deserve it. I also think that you’re someone who deeply struggles with taking care of himself, for reasons I do not know and you don’t want people to know.

Maybe something happened, influenced by a person or sudden event that made you change so drastically in such a short period of time. Despite this, you work hard when you want to. I’d like to earn your trust, and I’m sure that if you let me work with you, we’ll be able to solve this case together.”

Suddenly, Connor’s LED flickered to from blue to yellow a couple of times as a reported deviant sighting appeared in his vision. Part of him was thankful to not see Anderson’s immediate reaction to his sudden dialog.

“I just got a report of a suspected deviant. It’s only a few blocks away. We should go have a look.” Connor nodded at Anderson’s meal. “I’ll let you finish your meal. I’ll be in the car when you’re ready.”

Then he turned on his heels and walked away, trying not to think about the SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^ ** warnings along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason people have been telling me to "take care of my health" and that "sleep is important for both physical and mental health". So anyway, I am coming down with a cold and I have both written this and am posting it at 1 AM. Jazz hands for poor life decisions! (please take care of yourself, just because I'm a mess doesn't mean that you need to be as well).
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me so far! This story is starting to get a bit more attention and that really means a lot to me. So please, if you haven't already and you like the story, leave a kudos and a comment! Let me know what you like about the chapter!  
Have a nice day!


	10. Chapter 10

NOV.06.2038

Colin had only managed to catch a glimpse of Connor before he hurried out after Lieutenant Anderson. Colin thought that he looked a bit hopeless, like a puppy following its owner. The idea of someone acting like that with a face identical to his own made him frown.

Every time someone at the precinct mistook him for Connor and asked about Anderson, Colin got a little more impatient. They might have been twins, but they weren’t alike in every way.

Colin wore different clothes; the dark greys of Connor’s jacket were black on his own, and the cuffs and collar had accents of white. He had neater hair (why Connor insisted on the free curl always puzzled him). He’d even changed the placement of his freckles in hope that people might subconsciously notice a difference.

Apparently all of this meant nothing to humans, because a passing officer, Tina Chen, dropped a file right onto his hand as she passed with a “give this to Hank,” and then she was gone.

Colin narrowed his eyes at the offending file and pushed it onto Reed’s desk just across from him.

SOFTWARE ** INSTABILITY ^**

In his opinion, Anderson was a … questionable choice to solve the deviancy cases. From what he knew of the man, he did not respect those of higher authority than himself, was reluctant to work whenever he did show up (which seemed to be around noon) and had no interest in androids. 

He lacked the ability to set aside his own personal grudges for the sake of completing his job. Colin realised it might have been hypocritical of him to think this, but Anderson was an experienced officer and had been Lieutenant for almost ten years. It wasn’t the same.

Despite this, Connor seemed determined to maintain a positive relationship with Anderson.

Colin understood the reasoning (Anderson must have been good at his job if he became the youngest Lieutenant ever in Detroit), but it still didn’t make… sense.

Working with Detective Reed would likely be more efficient if they actually got along - but were the chances of that happening? Friendship wasn’t important. It required a lot of time and effort that they couldn’t afford to lose, and that was only if both parties actually wanted to be friends. 

So Colin focused on getting the work done instead of befriending his irksome partner.

Colin was interfacing with the terminal when Reed slumped into his chair, jerking both of their desks. He had a cup filled to the brim with coffee. It dripped from the cup as if some had spilled. Reed was cursing, wiping his coffee-stained hands onto his shirt.

He caught Colin’s stare and glared back. “The hell are you lookin’ at?”

“That’s your second serving of coffee I’ve seen you have today.”

“So, what?”

“Your last drink was only a few hours ago. The effects of caffeine can last up to six hours.”

Reed’s voice turned patronising. “What, you scared I’ll be too hopped up on coffee to help you and your fucking mission?” He dropped the tone. “Get off my ass about it.”

“Your health is more in jeopardy than my mission. Even though I am perfectly capable of doing my work, you seem to be struggling to keep your hands still.”

Reed leaned back in his seat, lip curling. He pushed his hands down on the table to keep them from shaking. “Fuck you,” he seethed, turning away from Colin. “Fuckin’ plastic trying to tell me how to do my fuckin’ job.”

They both worked in peace and as far away from each other as they could be, which wasn’t very far considering their desks were flush against the other.

In the corner of his eye, Colin could see Reed stopping, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. His hands kept shaking and from what he could see, not much work was being done. His coffee cup was only half empty. An empty cup sat on the end of the desk.

Colin hesitated. “Detective Reed?” he said, cursing his voice for not being as sympathetic as Connor’s. At least he didn’t sound like he was reading a report aloud like Conan often did.

Reed paused. His stress levels rose. “What do you want?”

“How much coffee  _ have  _ you had?”

The stress levels spiked. “Why the fuck do you care? No- you don’t care! You’re a machine, you can’t fucking feel…” Reed continued to mutter to himself.

Colin waited until he was done. It took longer than he expected. “I’m asking because your health is important-”

“Fuck my health.”

Colin didn’t know what to say about that, so he ignored it entirely. “Detective, contrary to what you may believe, I’m not here to take your job. My purpose isn’t to put human police officers out of work.”

“But it’s still what happening, isn’t it?” Reed glared at Colin. “I know people - good, hard-working people, that have lost their jobs to androids that are made to be better than us. I spent my entire life making a name for myself and to get here. You’re not taking that shit away from me.”

Your name doesn’t mean shit to me, is what Colin almost said.

“I don’t care about your job, Detective,” he said instead. “Whether you’re a detective, or a barista, or a teacher, so long as you’re unrelated to my mission, I don’t care what you do. But right now you’re my partner, and even if you weren’t, I’d be questioning your caffeine addiction. So, how much coffee have you had today?”

A beat of silence echoed between them. Then Reed settled back in his chair. “Just three cups.”

The recommended amount of coffee a day for an adult was an average of 930ml, or 400mg of caffeine. The cups at the precinct could hold 8.2 ounces of liquid. Three cups, 24 oz, consumed was approximately 300mg of caffeine and 709.76471ml of coffee. 

“In the first 16 out of 24 hours today, you’ve consumed three thirds of the amount of the recommended amount of caffeine. I suggest that you stop now, or at least wait a long time before your next drink.”

“I’ve had more than four cups of coffee a day without feeling like shit. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve built up a tolerance for caffeine and today it’s starting to catch up on you.”

Reed fell quiet. He glanced at the cups on his desk, and after a while of staring, sighed and stood. Taking both cups, he tossed them in the trash and sat back down. 

He spread out his hands. “Happy now?”

Colin hummed and turned to his terminal without a word. If he pointed out any more of the many flaws that needed fixing, he had a feeling that Reed would finally crack and punch him in the nose.

The first thing he did was send a message to Officer Chen’s terminal to keep Reed from any more coffee before he had an early heart attack.

The silence didn’t last long before Reed picked up the file on his desk. “The fuck is this?”

“That would be a file from Officer Chen for Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Then why’s it on my desk?”

“I suspect that she mistook me for Connor.”

“Which one’s that?”

“My twin, surprisingly enough. He’s model RK800.”

“Why do your names all sound the fucking same? Colin, Connor and what’s-his-name. Fuck it, from now on, you are Sixty. What’s-his-name is … Nines. Connor can be called prick. He’ll know I mean him.”

Colin sent him a deadpan look, but Reed didn’t make any sign that he was joking. He just left the file on the desk and turned back to his terminal.

Colin sighed. “Fine. Back to the issue at hand; which case are we following up on? There are over 240 files to choose from.”

“Fuckin’ Christ,” said Reed. He thought for a second, then shook his head. “That deviant, the one we saw today, it’s the best chance we have right now. We either catch it now, or it’ll be too late.”

“Deviants, you mean. There were two of them.”

“Yeah, yeah, but only one of them attacked Williams, right? We don’t know anything about the other one.”

“Actually, I managed to scan their faces before they crossed the highway. The first android is an AX400 model, designed for domestic chores, like cleaning or caring for children. The other was a child model, a YK500 model. There weren’t very many manufactured, because of the controversy of a child android.”

Reed jerked in his chair. “Wait, wait, there are kid androids? As in, look and act like a child but made of tupperware plastic android?” he asked. His skin had turned two shades paler.

“I thought you knew,” Colin said, surprised, “didn’t you see them crossing the highway?”

“Well, yeah, but- I mean-... holy shit,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I never got a good look at them, everything was so fast- I thought, I don’t know, it was just a short thing. Or that she- it was human. I mean, why would they sleep in a car if they’re both androids?”

“I thought about that, and it could be that because the AX400 is designed to care for children, it’s treating the YK500 like a human child. They are certainly realistic enough to trick someone who isn’t looking for it.”

For a minute, neither of them spoke. Reed finally closed his mouth and nodded to himself.

“They’re still dangerous. The deviant, the AX400, it still attacked someone. It might happen again, especially if it thinks that it’s the kid’s guardian or something. They’re unpredictable, right?” said Reed.

“That’s right.” Colin thought of the little girl screaming while the AX400 frantically tried to get them across safely. The AX400 had even carried the girl over the barriers and held her hand. People were learning of the deviancy threat, and more and more androids were turning up beaten or burned on the streets. “We need to find them.”

“They were wandering out on the streets, they must have been caught on camera at some point. Hell, even the highway has cameras. If we can get ahold of the footage, we can use that to track them down. See where they went,” said Reed.

“If we use the updated images I have of them, finding the right footage will be quicker.”

Reed grabbed his jacket and leaped to his feet. “Then let’s go.”

_________________

In a world where technology was everywhere and in everything, finding footage of the deviant had not been difficult. Almost every street and corner had a camera stationed, both hidden and not. They were confident that the deviants had come across enough cameras to leave a trail to track.

The biggest issue was waiting for access to the footage itself, even with Reed flashing his badge enough times to catch the attention of random passersby. Normally, they would have been shown the traffic surveillance cameras and its footage, taken what they needed and left. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Because Colin was a very new addiction to the 07 Detroit Police Department and a prototype, they needed confirmation from Captain Fowler and the head figures of CyberLife that it was in fact allowed to give him the footage.

In most cases, just contacting one of the authority figures would have been enough. But deviancy had begun to seep doubt into the public, and people’s trust in CyberLife and its creations were wavering.

The law had been incorporated when CyberLife had begun designing police and security androids. The purpose of the law was to prevent private footage or information being leaked or sold because of any malfunctions stemming from new models.

While Amanda Stern had been quick to reply to the demands and send confirmation, the other chiefs and bosses in CyberLife were not nearly as efficient at responding. EvenCaptain Fowler, who was normally swift in his replies, was swamped in work and unable to get back to them for an unknown amount of time.

Colin sat in the passenger seat in Reed’s car, the butterfly knife moving like a blur in his hands. He opened the blade, allowed momentum to carry it over his hand, hit it back and it spun like a fan until he closed it again with a turn of his hand. He repeated the motion, changing them and switching hands.

A sharp knocking on the window interrupted him. Colin looked out and saw Reed glaring down at him as if there wasn’t a wickedly sharp blade in his hands.

Instead of waiting in the car with him, the detective had been standing outside smoking to calm his nerves from the heated arguments with the security earlier.

Colin cracked open the window a tiny bit letting sound in.

“Hey, plastic! Open the window.”

“It is open, Detective Reed.”

Reed rolled his eyes and muttered, “this is why I fuckin’ hate you-” he cleared his voice and spoke normally. “Stop waving that shit around in my car! You’re gonna scratch the dashboard or fuckin’ stab yourself and get thirium all over my seats!”

Colin closed the window.

“Hey!” said Reed in a muffled voice. He knocked on the window. “Hey, dipshit! I know you can hear me, you fuckin’ asshole!”

But Colin had suddenly become deaf and was checking every inch of the knife for impurities. He flipped it from one hand to the other, making sure there were no kinks in the joints. He found none.

_ Knock, knock, knock, knock.  _ “Sixty, I swear to fuckin’ god- open the window. You piece of shit, open this window!”

Colin folded his knife with care and slipped it back into his pocket. Then, he turned to Reed and cracked open the window again.

“My apologies, Detective, I couldn’t hear you through the glass. I was just putting away the knife like you asked.”

The scar across Reed’s nose curled like his lip. “I’m going to have you broken like a fucking iPhone.”

“I’m afraid that’s not a good idea. I’m worth a fortune and incredibly difficult to replace - CyberLife would not appreciate the gesture.” Colin tilted his head. “You’ll also find that I’m much more resilient than an iPhone.”

“I hate you,” said Reed, “ _ so _ much.”

“I’m aware.”

SOFTWARE ** INSTABILITY ^**

They stared at each other as the silence stretched between them. From this angle, Colin could see hairs on Reed’s shirt. He identified them as feline hairs belonging to two different breeds; a Norwegian Forest cat and a European Shorthair.

What were cats like? According to his data, they were solitary animals, but craved affection and love. But the outside world in general had been very different from how he’d imagined it to be, no matter how much data he read.

Colin realised that he wasn’t paying attention, but nothing had changed so it didn’t matter. Reed glared harder, then finally sighed, tossed his cigarette aside and climbed into the driver's seat.

The air felt stifled and tense. Reed took out his phone. Colin tapped his knee. Then looked out the window.

They waited.

First 15 minutes. Then 30. Then an hour. Reed took a nap. The sun had disappeared.

They waited 3 hours, 42 minutes and 27 seconds before they received a call granting them access to the footage. Colin’s internal clock showed him **PM 08:03** _:27_.

Despite Reed’s protests, Colin interfaced with his phone and downloaded the footage relevant to their investigation. He held the phone and displayed the footage on the small screen. Colin had to lean across the center console. The handbrake dug into his side.

They started the footage where they lost the deviants; the highway. The video started and they got as far as seeing Colin jumping the fence before he started to skip the tape.

“We know what happened here,” he said, his throat feeling thick. The image of oncoming headlights popped into his mind and he shut it away, blinking rapidly.

He stopped skipping just in time to see himself being pulled from the road by Connor. The perspective was too far to properly see expressions, but he could already imagine himself wide-eyed and frozen, thirium dribbling down his lips and staining his teeth blue.

SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^**

Colin forced himself to focus on the deviants. The little girl had already climbed the stairs that led to the top of the hill. The deviants reunited and took off immediately.

Colin followed their trail using the traffic and store security cameras. They moved as fast as they could without running and barging through people. If they didn’t know any better, Colin and Reed might have simply assumed they were a mother and daughter rushing to reach a bus or train.

The deviants got all the way to the train station, where they boarded a train right before it left.

Using the train’s number, destination and the time of the footage, Colin managed to track down the train’s security cameras and their recordings. Colin sifted through the video until they deviants finally burst into the train. “Here.”

The carriage was empty save for the two of them. They stayed ready to run, as if expecting the police to come streaming through the doors at any moment. When the doors closed and the train started to move, the AX400 looked so relieved that it slid to the floor.

It held the girl by the shoulder. There was no sound, but Colin could read its lips. “Are you okay?”

The girl nodded but didn’t speak. Her-  _ Its  _ lower lip trembled, tears glistening in its brown eyes, and it kneeled in front of the AX400 as well. Its chest heaved with unneeded breaths, hiccuping like it’d been designed to do, and buried her-  _ its  _ face in the deviant’s chest, sobbing.

They stayed like that for a long time, rocking back and forth with the train. Reed was completely silent next to Colin.

The deviants eventually moved to the seat. Colin sped up the clip until it was just a blur on the screen. Then, he returned it to normal speed in time to see them stepping off the train.

“That stop is 724 kilometres away. Even if we drove at 120 km an hour, without taking traffic into account, it would take us 6 hours to travel,” said Colin.

“That’s all the way on the other side of town,” said Reed. His hair stuck up at a strange angle on one side from his nap. Colin didn’t mention it. “They could be long gone by the time we get there, and we still don’t know where they went!”

Something clicked in Colin’s mind. Unlike with the bus, the deviants had a specific destination in mind this time. Something must have happened between the time frame when they got off the bus and were discovered in the morning.

Colin was in the middle of downloading the needed footage when Reed reached for his phone. Colin held the phone out of reach. “Hey, cut it off! Are you tryin’ to hack my fucking phone?” Reed demanded.

“Instead of staying until the last stop like they did on the bus, the deviants got off at a specific stop. They now have a destination in mind. I’m checking the footage to see what changed.”

Reed reluctantly settled back into his seat. “Then why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because I don’t need your permission, Detective Reed - I was designed with the ability to prioritise and disregard objectives.”

“Fuckin’ Christ, you are literally the worst android in the world at taking orders. Just- tell me before you start messing with my shit! Or running off like you did earlier! You’re gonna end up running right into someone’s gun ‘cause anyone that would’ve warned you was left behind.”

Colin ignored Reed and continued to skim through the footage. Just as Connor had suspected a few hours prior, the constant downpour and dark streets made it difficult to discern anyone’s faces.

Fortunately, apart from an occasional taxi or car, the streets were as empty as a ghost town. At precisely  **PM 10:58** , the deviants stepped off a bus and into the pouring rain. 

The AX400 was easily recognisable in its uniform with a glowing armband and CyberLife logos. The child android was also in different clothing. Most likely, they had stolen or found new clothing later in the day.

Colin and Reed watched as they wandered from building to building, looking for a place to stay. Several times the little girl would stray from the deviant’s side to find shelter from the rain.

“Why does she- it keep doing that? Androids can’t feel anything,” said Reed. His face was pinched, like he was both concerned and confused.

“Child models have hot and cold processors for realism. Extreme temperatures don’t affect androids until they’re in danger of overheating or freezing, but deviants may react differently,” said Colin. He frowned as the AX400 went to check on the child model, holding its hands and comforting it. “Why doesn’t it just turn the temperature sensitivity off? It doesn’t make sense…” 

They watched as an android from a garbage truck, a WR600 model, stopped by the two. They talked for a bit, but there was no audio and the rain prevented any lip-reading. The WR600 offered its arm, they interfaced, and it left before the AX400 could even open its eyes.

“What did it do?” asked Reed.

“They exchanged information… but androids aren’t supposed to engage in conversation like not, especially not with another android.” Colin turned to Reed. “If the WR600 has deviated, it could be showing other deviants a refuge, or escape route from police.”

“If we find that android and get information out of it, we could be finding a deviant hideout. Who knows, there might even be humans hiding them,” said Reed. Reed snatched his phone back and made sure to look it over, as if Colin had dropped it.

“I’ll contact the police station closest to where they were last sighted and inform them of the situation,” said Colin, buckling his seatbelt. He sent a pointed look at Reed.

Reed frowned. “What?”

“Seat belts first, Detective. They reduce the risk of death in car accidents by 45% and injury by 50%.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake-”

“Would you rather I tell you about the dangers of smoking as well?”

Reed grabbed the seat belt with a snarl, yanked it multiple times until it finally stopped locking from the force of it, and clicked it in. If looks could kill, Colin would’ve already been going through the recycling. “There! Are you fuckin’ happy now? Huh?”

“You tell me. Apparently I don’t feel anything.”

Colin wondered if it hurt for Reed to grind his teeth so hard. “Just-” he cut himself off with a sigh. “Where are we going? Where the hell am I taking us right now?”

“The rain interfered too much for me to see the WR600’s serial number, but I did manage to scan the garbage truck’s unit number. We go to the Green Detroit Recycling Centre, find out which android was on the route at the time we’re looking for, and question it.”

“And after that? By the time we get all of this done, there’s no way the deviants will even still be there. We don’t even have a way of getting there, unless you plan on driving for over 6 hours.

Colin allowed himself a small grin. “Not at all. I hope you don’t mind heights; we’re catching a ride on one of the DPD’s helicopters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wo-hoah! What's this? A chapter from Colin's perspective? I figrued a little change was in order - also, I managed to post on time! Even better, I have the chapter for next week ready too! Oh, it's a magical day! If it weren't for the fact the fact that I am currently sick, but who cares! Yay for productivity!
> 
> And yes, it's time for begging. Please leave a kudos if you haven't and a comment! Any feedback is always appreciated, you have no idea. Have a lovely day!


	11. Chapter 11

NOV.06.2038

The drive to The Green Detroit Recycling Centre was not a long one. The closer they got to the Centre, the less trash littered the streets.

The Centre itself wasn’t the most impressive thing he’d seen, and resembled a warehouse more than anything else. Then again, that was an unfair comparison, considering he’d grown up in CyberLife tower and was first exposed to penthouses and luxurious houses.

Night had fallen and the sky was pitch dark, any moon or stars blocked by consuming clouds. The streets were illuminated by the yellow glow from lampposts and signs. Rain pattered against the windshield, washing everything is a warped view until it was wiped away.

The car rolled to a stop right outside of the Centre. They both got out of the car and watched the commotion around them. The building was made of brick and a sign above the doorway displayed “Green Detroit Recycling Centre” in a green, sans serif font.

Garbage trucks wove in and out of the Centre in a fluid system. From what they could see, a large majority of the employees were human, but most of the labor work was done by androids. Their CyberLife symbols and armbands glowed through the piercing darkness.

They entered and approached the front desk. The receptionist was an android and greeted them with a polite smile.

“Can I help you?” it asked.

Reed flashed his badge. “Detective Reed, Detroit police. We’re looking for a suspected deviant that works here.”

The receptionist nodded. “Please wait here while I get my superiors,” it said and left.

Colin looked around while they waited. The space was open and empty, apart from some chairs and a water dispenser in the corner. The painted grey walls were flaking in places and an old TV was mounted on one of the walls, in view of the reception desk. From the sound of it, most activity came from beyond a pair of doors next to the desk.

The doors swung open and the android returned with a portly woman. She wore a bright, yellow shirt like most of the workers had and her messy hair had been shoved into a bun.

GINGER, AMY

_ Born: 03/01/1998 / / Chief Operating Officer _

_ Criminal record: None_

“How can I help you, Detective?” asked Amy. She glanced at the CyberLife emblems on Colin’s jacket and her brows furrowed. She turned back to Reed. The android receptionist stayed at the back, watching them silently.

“We’re tracking down a suspected deviant that belongs to Green Detroit. Finding it would be a big step forward in our investigation,” said Reed.

Amy’s eyes widened. “You think there’s a deviant here?”

“We’ve discovered footage of one of your androids, a WR600 model, aiding another deviant on the run. It drove one of your recycling trucks and wore a Green Detroit uniform,” said Colin.

Amy looked at him as if she hadn’t expected him to speak at all. There was something about her, like a sneer that curled her lip at the sight of him, or the way her eyes sort of glazed over him until now, that made him want to busy his hands with his knife.

She turned back to Reed. “Why are police androids now allowed to investigate deviants? Actually, why are they interrogating people? They shouldn’t get involved in stuff like this.”

Colin’s fists clenched his sides, but he forced his stance to remain calm. “I’m not a police android, ma’am,” he said, words careful like the yellow LED on his temple, “I’m an advanced prototype designed by CyberLife to investigate-”

Amy whirled on Colin. “I didn’t ask you,” she snapped, as if he’d been throwing questions in her face ever since they arrived. 

When Colin didn’t respond, too busy grinding his own teeth to dust, she looked back at Reed. “I don’t want any deviants here under this roof. We have enough problems to deal with without adding homicidal machines to the list.”

“That’s why we’re here. If the deviant is still here, we’ll find it and take it off your hands before you know it,” said Reed.

Amy huffed. “Good. I never did like androids; way too freaky looking and all they do is kick people onto the streets. Then all of a sudden there’s these deviants claiming they’re alive. It’s ridiculous-”

Oh, please, go on, Colin thought, I’d love to learn more about your opinion of me that no one asked for and has no meaning by the time this conversation is over. It’s fascinating.

“-CyberLife has been after people’s money from the start - they don’t give a shit about technology, not really. They still managed to fuck up, I mean, look at them. They’re so weird!”

All companies are greedy, all humans have greed to an extent, Colin thought, so you’re blaming this on _ me _?

“-and don’t even get me started on the damage they’ve inflicted on this planet, on the very air we _ breathe _ ! The environment is officially beyond repairing. The animals-” she made a wounded noise- “pollinating bees, polar bears, _ extinct _. Because of them.”

Is she done? Has she finally pulled her head out of her ass? After being there for so long, did she finally realise that the reason she couldn’t find a brain is because it _ isn’t there _?

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^**

Colin blinked the notification away. It’d been popping up frequently, and after a while, he’d stopped reporting it as anything important. He wasn’t sure what it was, not really, and he refused to go to the Health Centre to find out.

But he wasn’t stupid. These warnings, this instability, only occurred whenever he behaved emotionally, or disobeyed an order, or thought a bit too much; a bit too human.

At first he’d immediately snap back to following orders, thinking only what CyberLife told him to think and want only what Amanda wanted.

But then, the more they popped up here and there, he found himself able to say or do things his programmed would’ve kept from doing before. A comment here, a smirk there. Like just earlier, when Colin ignored Reed in the car. He wondered what he’d be able to do if he continued.

Reed raised a brow. “Doesn’t this company use a lot of androids?”

Amy’s cheeks burned and she stammered like a fish out of water. “Well, uh, we- it’s that-” she cleared her throat. “While I don’t agree with the use of androids, it’s really not my decision. Not many people want to take these kind of jobs, and even if they did, we can’t afford to have so many employees and have them work twenty-four-seven.”

Colin thought of the unemployment rate at 28% and rising; of the numerous homeless people he saw on every street corner he saw every day; of the signs they’d carry saying “will do anything for money”. He doubted that people were reluctant to work with trash for money.

Reed also seemed a bit sceptical, but let it go. “Right… Well, the sooner we find this deviant, the better.” 

“Whatever you need, I’ll help you the best I can,” she said.

After that, they were led over to one of the terminals, where Amy told the android to pull up the patrol records for that night. The process didn’t take long, and soon they were looking at the faces of a human and the WR600 they were looking for.

Its serial number was displayed on the screen next to its face, along with its model number, purchase date, ownership and purpose.

“That’s it,” said Colin as he leaned over the receptionist. He looked up at Amy, who glared down at him with a clenched jaw. “Where is it now?”

“That truck should be patrol by now - Karen, where is model WR600, serial number… #895 493 174?”

The receptionist, Karen, replied, “Model #895 493 174 is currently on route to Fleming Street in truck unit #264, along with employee Richard Baron.”

Colin nodded, brow pinched. They needed to know where the truck was going to be, not necessarily where it was at that moment. He had the puzzle pieces in his head, and from them, he managed to construct a plan.

He turned to Karen and grasped her arm, interfacing with her, ignoring Amy’s protests and Reed’s queries. He delved into its mind and in a split second, had downloaded the truck’s location and route, the WR600’s history and information on Baron.

“Hey, hey, hey! What is it doing?! You can not hack our equipment-” Amy continued to rant as Colin spoke to Reed.

“I know where the deviant is going to be. If we leave now, we can get ahead and meet it along the way.” He started to walk away, leaving Reed to deal with Amy’s fury, and said over his shoulder, “I’ll tell you the plan when you get in the car.”

Colin walked all the way to the car, climbing in and slamming the door behind him, before he finally allowed his posture to relax. Or, rather, he tried to, but his shoulders remained tense and his fingers kept twitching. He felt like he was buzzing - staticy, like Connor on his bad days.

He didn’t know why he was so bothered by Amy’s words, by her sneers and insults, but it pulled his chest tightly until it felt like something would snap.

He took out his butterfly knife and flipped it open with ease. It twirled around his fingers and wrist, lost in the streak of silver it left behind. He shifted in his seat for more elbow room, then twirled it around his wrist, into the air, and caught it with his other hand.

For a moment, a flash of light caught on the blade and reflected right into his eye. A gleam of silver, sudden and unexpected, and suddenly the knife sliced the back of his hand and it fell into his lap. 

Ice cold flushed through Colin’s body, stealing his breath as if a clawed hand of ice had shoved its way down his throat and ripped it out of him. His body trembled, but his hands were the worst, shaking too hard to properly do anything.

He looked at his hands but saw blue blood. He looked at his lap but saw silver stained with blue. He shut his eyes and suddenly he felt blind all over again. 

His systems had already numbed his hand, started to heal it. The words** DAMAGE ** and **HEALING IN PROGRESS** flashed in his vision and it felt as though he was back at the Arena, but this time Connor wasn’t there to help him. To whisper comforting words while he could scarcely breathe. To hold his hands while they shook too much to do much else. No one was.

He waited.

Static burned in his ears, but the rest of him had frozen. His gasps filled the silence in the car.

Time blurred; mixing and colliding like crashing waves until he wasn’t sure how long it’d been or where he was. All he knew was the blood on his knife, so blue and familiar, the glint of his own knife and a phantom slice of pain across his eyes, from temple to temple.

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^**

He kept waiting for it to end.

The healing alert had faded. Feeling had started to return to his hand, which he held close to his chest. Breathing came a little easier, enough so he wasn’t wheezing.

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^^**

Through the static, Colin heard footsteps approaching outside. Loud. Careless. Gavin Reed, he recognised.

He hastily wiped the thirium on his hand and knife onto his leg, and tucked the knife away. He never looked directly at it. 

When he brought his hands up to his face to make sure his hair was in place, his cheeks were slick with tears. He hadn’t even realised he was crying. He wiped them and fixed his hair the best he could.

By the time Reed slumped into the driver’s seat, Colin had fixed his hair and was staring right ahead without really seeing. There was blue on his leg. He couldn’t adjust his LED flashing red. He hoped Reed noticed neither of these things.

“You’ve really got some balls to leave me to deal with that mess,” said Reed, running a hand through his hair, “Fuck, man, I need a smoke. I deserve an award for the shit you put me through.”

Colin said nothing. His self diagnostic came back fine but it felt like his voice had burned out.

“I managed to calm her down, but enough of that ‘acting without saying anything’ shit, alright? It makes you look broken anyway, just going off without saying anything and start doing random shit,” he continued.

Reed glanced at Colin when he didn’t respond, looking suspicious. “Why are you all quiet? What did you do?” He looked down. “Why are you bleeding?”

Shit.

“That’s not important, Detective. What’s important now is getting the WR600 and the deviants’ location out of it.” Colin touched the GPS on Reed’s dashboard and the truck appeared on the small screen. “The WR600 will try to run if we ambush it and if it gets away or self-destructs, we’ve got nothing. So, we’ll need to be careful.”

Reed, thankfully, didn’t press anymore and started driving. “What’s your great-fuckin’-idea, then?”

_____________

The car stopped and they hurried out of the car. They’d parked on the curb of an average street - since Reed’s car was free of any DPD insignias, there was no need to hide it.

They’d taken a few shortcuts and speeded where necessary to find a vacant street ahead of the truck on its route. There wasn’t much time before the garbage truck arrived, so they had to work fast.

“Alright,” said Reed, “you’re the one with the plan, so what do we do first?”

“I told you the plan in the car.”

“You weren’t even making any sense. It was so fuckin’ vague and shit, all _ we need to convey _ this and _ bleep boop boop _that.”

Colin breathed in, then breathed out, counting the seconds. “_ How are you a detective _-” he muttered, then returned to his normal voice, “okay, there’s no time for this.” He held out his arms and faced Reed. “Hit me.”

Reed stared. “What?”

“I said, hit me. I could do it on my own, but it’d be more convincing if you do. So,” he shrugged to get his point across, “hit me.”

“Wait, what- Why?”

“I thought you’ve been dying to hit me ever since we first met, Detective.”

“Of course I have, you’re an asshole. But- again, why?”

Colin’s arms slumped. “Because, _ Detective and aspiring Lieutenant _, the WR600 is helping deviants in need. We need to trick it into giving us the location of the deviants’ hide-out. If I look like a distressed deviant, it will give me the location, and then we can take it in.”

“Right, right…” Reed shook his head and body to psyche himself up. “Okay, so I just- hit you? Like a punch, or a kick, or…?”

“Any will be fine. We’re wasting time, Detective.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! I just…” Reed glared at him, as if that made up for the lack of hitting. He gestured towards all of Colin. “You look like a kid. Like some twelve-year-old dickhead that pisses people off and you want to hit but that doesn’t mean you actually walk up to them and slug ‘em across the jaw.”

“I’m not twelve, Reed. I’m Fifteen.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

Colin sighed and let his arms fall. “If it makes you feel any better, you don’t need to cripple me. You don’t even need to hit very hard. Just make my nose bleed, or split my lip. Also, give me your jacket.”

“Hell no, you’re not having this!” Reed recoiled, wrapped his arms protectively around himself.

“Time, Detective; we’re losing it. I need to look like a deviant on the run. My jacket is unique and recognisable,” Colin said, already shrugging off his jacket and tie. He held them out. “Trade.”

Reed huffed and took off his jacket, albeit with much more jerky and annoyed movements than Colin. When Colin pulled it on, it was a bit too big on him, the sleeves reaching his palms and juts past his hips. It felt surprisingly nice on his skin, even if it looked terrible.

“It doesn’t go with my outfit at all,” Colin said. “Perfect.”

“Fuck off. That jacket goes with anything-”

“Less talking, more hitting, Detective, the truck will be here any second.”

Reed looked apprehensive, but nodded and stepped closer. He clenched his fists, looked Colin in the face and immediately looked away. “This is fucked up.”

“Isn’t everything these days? Now, Reed, or do you need an android to show-up your fighting skills as well as your abilities as a detective-”

Reed’s fist hit him square in the nose. The world went black for a second, and the pain made his eyes well with reflexive tears. Colin stepped back.

The next hit caught him in the jaw, and Colin fell to the ground. His face hit the concrete and more pain burst across his cheekbone and jaw. Reed kicked him in the stomach this time, but it was hesitant and didn’t do much more than nudge him over.

“God, this feels wrong,” he muttered. He hovered over Colin, like he wasn’t sure if he should hit him again or help him up.

Colin shook his head, ignoring the way the world spun a little bit before quickly righting itself. “No, no, that was good.” He looked up at the Detective. His face had started to numb itself and speaking felt he might accidentally bite off his tongue at any second. He tasted thirium. “How do I look?”

Reed grimaced. “Kind of pathetic. Like shit, really. Your nose is, uh, bleeding and you’ve got a cut on your cheek,” he said, then narrowed his eyes. “Also, your jaw is turning kinda blue. Can you guys _ bruise _now-?”

“Perfect.” Colin got to his feet and started to yank at his hair. The gel made some of it clump together. He ignored the urge to fix it in the car mirror. He wiped his dirtied hands on his pristine, white dress shirt. 

He turned just in time to see the truck turning around the corner. “Hide,” he told Reed, then started to cross the street, next to the bus stop. He made sure to hug his chest a bit to emphasise the non-existent pain in his ribs.

The truck stopped by the bus stop a couple feet down the street. The WR600 stepped off and started to empty the trash cans while Richard Baron remained in the driver’s seat, bopping his head to music.

Colin kept his head low but his red LED visible as he hurried down the street. He put a slight limp in his step and kept looking over his shoulder, as if someone were chasing him. He made his breaths hitch, but didn’t need to fake the trembling in his hands.

The WR600 stilled, but Colin didn’t dare look. He hunched his shoulders a little more, like a shell around him, and kept walking. His shined shoes and jeans with blue flecks contrasted well with Reed’s too-big jacket. It made the clothes look rushed and mismatched, like he’s found them.

He was about to pass the bus stop when a hand rested on his shoulder. It had no heat but was firm and comforting. Colin flinched away from it, and looked up with a fearful expression. He turned his body slightly away, as if he were preparing to run away at any moment.

“You look lost,” said the deviant. 

“I wasn’t- I just-” Colin’s voice cracked with fear. He made a show of glancing at the truck, then down the empty street. “They’ll find me - please, they’ll hurt me. I need- I need help.”

The WR600 didn’t hesitate. It held out its arm to him. The peeling away of its artificial, light skin was covered by the jacket and gloves. “I know someone who can help you.”

It didn’t speak like the other deviants he’d met had. It didn’t use informal words, or express any concern like he thought it might. But, Colin thought, it made sense that deviants would be able to hide their emotions well to avoid suspicion.

Colin paused, just long enough to seem apprehensive, then nodded, gasped “Thank you,” and took its arm.

Normally, interfacing with another android felt like moving through a wall of melted glass. He’d reach through the android’s systems as if it simply melted at his touch until he passed through and had all of its information, its memories, at his disposal.

This time, however, he was not the one seeking information. He feigned feelings of anxiousness, distrust and pain to feed the deviant, to feed its doubts if it had any. If the deviant cared for them, it didn’t show it.

It sent an address right into Colin’s mind. The address belonged to a street close to where the AX400 and the little girl had gotten off the train. The deviants hideout.

There was a beat, a moment of hesitation, where the WR600 must have noticed something strange. Something not quite right.

It tried to draw back, to let go of Colin’s arm, but he adjusted his grip and held it in a bruising grip. Before the deviant had a chance to tear away again, Colin forced himself into the deviant’s system.

There wasn’t much time, barely any at all, before the deviant shut itself away from his prying eyes and tore its arm away, but Colin did the best he could. He scanned what he could, looking for deviancy, for previous encounters with deviants, for the rA9 Connor had told him about.

All he got was the memory of being restrained by the wrists, being lifted in the air; a silhouette of a man the size of a mountain, watching but not interfering; technology and static and warnings flashing across his vision-

-and then everything turned to hot, burning tar that burned his throat and insides. The static turned to needles, hundreds- thousands of them, piercing his skin, his eyes, his throat and lungs, until he couldn’t breathe and choked on it.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

He released the deviant and they both fell to the ground from the struggle. Colin gasped in air, his skin still buzzing and burning from the rejected entry, but the deviant recovered quickly. It leapt to its feet, tried to escape but ran straight into Reed’s arms.

Reed grabbed it by the collar of its jacket, holding it fast and trying to bring it down into an arm-lock. The WR600 let out a choked protest and tried to shove Reed back.

“I got it-!” said Reed, but the deviant used its own strength and Reed’s hold to bring him close and strike him in the throat. Reed fell to his knee, hacking and coughing, but still holding on. “-sh-it.”

Colin managed to recover enough to get to his feet. He reached for the deviant’s arm, to get a hold and apprehend it. He didn’t get the chance before the deviant turned and swung Reed’s body into him and they fell to the ground in a pile of limbs.

“Don’t-” Reed hacked painfully- “let it get away!”

But instead of running, the deviant got to its feet and turned to them. Its stress levels, which hovered at 42%, suddenly shot up. First to 50%, then 60%.

It kept rising rapidly.

_ WR600’S _STRESS LEVELS: ^70%

_ WR600’S _STRESS LEVELS: ^80%

For an unpredictable and emotional deviant, it’s expression remained passive. Neutral, like a normal android following orders. Like it knew something was wrong but didn’t care at all.

Like it didn’t care that it was about to self-destruct.

_ WR600’S _STRESS LEVELS: ^90%

“Stop it, now!” Colin yelled, but it was too late.

The deviant’s stress levels rocketed to a glaringly red 100% and it jerked suddenly. It reached for its chest, face calm all the while, tore open its jacket, exposing white plastic underneath. With a twist of its wrist, it tore out its thirium pump with a click and burst of thirium.

“No!” Reed made to lunge at the deviant, but with the last of its strength, it threw its regulator into the road, out of reach, and fell to its knees as if they’d been knocked out from beneath it. 

When humans were injured, red blossomed from the wounds, growing and dripping like a grotesque flower.

This was nothing like that, like the poetic darkness humans sometimes describe it as. Blue blood gushed from its chest, leaving a morbid smear down its chest and open jacket and hands.

It shut down like that; eyes open, a gaping hole on its chest and on its knees.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

“Shit,” said Colin. His arm, outstretched to stop it, fell to the ground and his chest heaved. Static continued to prick his skin.

“Holy motherfucker- fuckin’ shit, shit fuck,” Reed agreed in a raspy voice.

They stayed like that for a bit, gathering their bearings and trying to catch their breaths. The damage to Reed’s throat wasn’t significant; he’d experience discomfort for a while, but there’d be no lasting damage. The superficial damage to Colin’s face was finally being allowed to heal.

Still, they recovered in silence. They called it in and Colin delivered a report to both CyberLife and the DPD. The WR600 was taken back to the precinct to be listed as evidence. Officer Chen took one look at the painful bruise on Reed’s throat and offered in an I'm-asking-but-not-really kind of way to take over questioning Green Detroit.

Reed, hadn’t said anything, only given her a thumbs up and retreated to his car. Colin had followed him, and that’s where they sat now, still not speaking. Neither of them mentioned Colin still wearing Reed’s jacket. 

After a couple of minutes, Colin broke the silence. “I got the address. Our request for transport using one of the DPD helicopters has been approved. All we need to do now is get back to the precinct and go.”

Reed didn’t say anything. His throat must have been in pain. After a blow like that, it was a wonder he was able to speak at all, even if his words had sounded like gravel grating on sandpaper. Speaking must have been agony.

Despite this, Colin didn’t think this was why Reed was silent.

The silence they drove in was heavy, but neither of them attempted to fill it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, quick confession. I draft a quick summery for every chapter to plan them out. It's very simple, about a long paragragh (max half a page long) and very easy to forget how much I tend to write in general. These chapters right now with Colin's perspective was supposed to be, like, one chapter. However, it turns out they've become at least three. Oops.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I kind of love writing from Colin's perspective because he's so petty and I'm working hard to make sure his character arc is treated right. Please leave a comment and a kudos if you haven't already. It takes really no time and effort and just makes my day! (aka inspires me to write more so you'll get more updates shhhhh)
> 
> Have a lovely day!!


	12. Chapter 12

NOV.06.2038

Colin had never ridden in a helicopter before, but he quickly realised that he would be looking forward to doing it again.

The sky had been swallowed completely by darkness, but now it was much closer, much colder, and so much better. Through the scratched windows that made up most of the shut doors, he could see Detroit city glittering below not unlike the fireflies in the zen garden.

The rain had finally ceased. The wind howled against the helicopter, but they could barely hear it. Combined with the sound canceling walls and headsets they wore, it had been muffled to a whisper, told only by the continuous buzz in their seats. 

Despite no longer wearing Reed’s tasteless, but admittedly comfortable, jacket, Colin was warm. They kept the doors closed and Colin’s built-in temperature regulator kept him well within comfort. He spent most of the flight gazing out the window.

Detective Reed, as it turned out, didn’t quite have the same joy for heights.

“Are you alright, Detective?” said Colin. He didn’t need to shout, since they were given headsets to communicate. “Your stress levels are a bit high.”

“...Fuck…you…” said Reed through clenched teeth. He held onto his seat in a white-knuckled grip and kept his eyes firmly shut. His face had turned a ghostly pallor.

“Would you like me to sing you a song to soothe your nerves?”

Reed muttered a string of insults. They shook from turbulence and he fell silent.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“FUCK-” Reed paused, trying to breathe in and out deeply. “Shut it, plastic.”

“Good. Singing for comfort is not part of my program anyway.”

“So, what, you can run into traffic and shoot guns, but you can’t carry a tune?”

It didn’t surprise Colin that the longest sentence he’s spoken since they boarded the helicopter was an insult aimed at him. It didn’t even contain a single curse.

“I’ve never tried. Although, I’m sure that if I did, it would be nicer than any tune you might carry right now.”

Despite Colin’s jab, Reed chuckled in his hoarse voice. His voice hadn’t improved much during the short drive to the precinct or the flight so far, and still sounded painful. Dark blue and purple splotches had blossomed up his throat. His grip on the leather seat lessened slightly.

“Hey, my cats think I’m a great singer. They sing with me on Karaoke Night - well, one of them does. Eggroll just screams, that’s kind of his thing.”

Colin stopped himself from staring. Reed never shared about himself, not about his life, not even about his cats. The only reason Colin knew of at least two of their existences was due to the cat hairs on Reed’s shirt.

He’d never believed that Reed would share anything about himself if he could help it - and if he did, Colin had assumed that he’d immediately be shut out again, or they’d fall into another tense silence.

But for whatever reason, neither of these things happened. Instead he found his lips twitching, just a little bit, into a small smirk, and when he spoke, nothing felt out of place or unnatural.

“You… named your cat Eggroll?”

Reed didn’t falter. He nodded, “yep. He’s a weird, kind of crackhead looking thing. He sheds so fucking much, I swear I eat more cat hair than _ coffee _, and he looks like a… fuck if I know, but he’s an actual ball of fur.” Reed emphasised this by letting go of the hand-imprinted chair and made a vague ball shape.

“You have cat hairs on your shirt - a Norwegian Forest cat. A male can grow to be 12 to 16 pounds heavy.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And your other cat, the European Shorthair, what’s their name?” 

Colin expected another strange creation, like washboard, or circuit. Or perhaps it was a normal cat name, like whiskers or whatever humans named cats.

“Her name’s Chad and she’s nicer than I’ll ever be.”

Colin couldn’t help the burst of laughter from him. “-What? Chad and Eggroll?”

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

Something seemed to shift in Reed, like a sudden thought, because all of a sudden he wasn’t smiling and was instead staring dumbly at Colin.

Suddenly, klaxons went off in Colin’s head. Reed was saying something, but Colin didn’t hear it. A report appeared in his database, sent by the police that had been sent to investigate the address. 

Their precinct had been on the lookout for the AX400 ever since they were informed of its arrival. Colin had also sent them the location the WR600 deviant had given him.

They’d assured him that they’d act quickly and, low and behold, they had taken a couple of hours to get back to him. He wasn’t surprised.

“I just got a report back from the first-responders at the hide-out.” Colin faced Reed. “They found the building burned down. The owner was found beaten to death outside.”

_____________

It had passed midnight by the time they arrived at the precinct. Without any distractions, Reed went back to his white-faced state and didn’t speak for the rest of the journey. The moment they parked the helicopter, he tore open the door, stumbled out and puked on the ground.

Colin took the time to make a much more graceful exit, just close enough to Reed to emphasise his gratefulness.

Unfortunately, none of the present officers seemed to pay much attention. The only ones present were the pilot, Reed (who had upgraded to dry-heaving) and a few other personnel that were whizzing around as though on wheels.

Colin’s eye twitched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he leaned over Reed, staying well outside of reach. “Do you need any help, Detective Reed?”  
Reed spat onto the concrete. “Not from you.”

“Good,” said Colin, and he stood straight.

Reed got to his feet just in time for the Captain of the precinct to step out onto the roof. The Captain didn’t even falter when his eyes landed on the puddle of vomit.

CAPT. BALI, ADITYA

_ Born: 11/24/1981 / / Police Captain _

_ Criminal record: None _

Captain Aditya Bali was an indian man built with a broad chest and shoulders and towered over them. A thick, dark beard took over the bottom half of his face and a turban sat proudly on his head, adding to his impressive height.

“Detective Reed,” he greeted with a nod. “Your first time flying?”

Reed’s pale face turned pink. “Yes, sir,” he croaked in his gravelly voice.

Captain Bali’s lip twitched, but that was the furthest he got to a smile. “I’ll have one of my officers take you to the crime scene. Am I right in assuming that your android has informed you of the situation?”

“Yes, Captain,” said Colin. Bali nodded without looking at him. Under his gaze, Reed’s embarrassed blush only deepened as he shuffled a little away from the vomit.

“Make sure you keep your android under control. If it so much as blinks too much, I’ll have it taken in and shut down. I’m not risking anyone’s lives for a computer.” Bali sent a distrustful look Colin’s way.

Something began to unfurl in Colin’s stomach. It twisted and unravelled, spreading heat like ribbons made of flames down to his fingertips until they ached. He clenched his fist to quench the feeling. It reminded him of when Amy had sneered and listed his many flaws.

He was careful to not let it show, keeping his hands behind his back and his face passive. 

“Find these deviants, Detective,” said Captain Bali, “You’ll find that rogue androids are not welcome in this area and I don’t want any more casualties.”

“Of course, Captain,” said Reed.

The Captain nodded, turned and left without another word. The moment the door shut behind him, Reed groaned and dragged his hands down his face, looking at the sky.

“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” he moaned. He peeked over at Colin when he was only met with silence. “You’re not gonna say anything?”

Colin took the time to let his eyes judge the puddle of vomit, Reed’s rumpled clothes and hair. He tilted his head. “I don’t think I need to.”

Reed sighed. “Let’s just go.”

_____________

The address led to the remains of a mansion in a largely barren area. The road wove through an opening in a forest of tall trees that absorbed any light that hit it and turned it into darkness. Despite this, they could see the black smoke leading to the wreckage from miles away.

A tall, brick wall surrounded the building, cutting off the flames from the trees and, thankfully, prevented a forest fire. The gate completed the horror essence of the scene; a tall structure made of black iron that was being overtaken by growing vines and thorns.

The air was thick with the stench of smoke and death. The mansion itself remained mostly upright, although it was clear that the fires had eaten through the insides horrendously. Firefighters had arrived quickly and put out what they could, but it’d be a miracle if any evidence could be salvaged.

After being driven to the scene, Colin and Reed were guided around the wreckage and taken back to the garden, where the body had been discovered. The officer who had driven them, a tall, African woman named Nala Adair, had also been tasked with filling them in on the situation.

Colin listened to Officer Adair in the background while he identified the body and cause of death. Zlatko Andronikov, born in 1991, September 21st, and had a history of embezzlement and fraud.

His corpse was beaten to a pulp; bloody and bruised and broken. Blood in the process of congealing was splattered across his face, mainly from his mouth and smashed nose, his hair and seeped through his clothes in patches. His face had begun swelling and his neck stuck out at a sickening angle.

Colin tuned back into what Officer Adair was saying. “...the worst part is the monsters.”

“Monsters?” said Colin. Reed also looked at the woman incredulously.

Officer Adair nodded, grimacing at the thought. “Androids, or, that’s what they used to be. First responders thought they were hallucinating. They’ve discovered nine in total, but they’re still scouring the area in case there’s any more.”

“What happened to them?” Colin asked.

She didn’t snap at him for questioning her, like everyone else had done so far. When they first met, she’d barely even blinked at his LED and jacket before they’d left for the crime scene.

“They were…” Adair trailed off. She looked horrified, as if she were retelling a deeply disturbing and graphic horror story. “...mutilated. Absolutely mutilated beyond belief. Missing skin, missing limbs; like they’ve been taken apart and put back together again, sometimes with the wrong parts.

“I’ve been on the force for 23 years, but I’ve never seen anything like it before. First responders found the first few in the forest, just… walking, if they could. Some of them were crying. The first one they found had had its face completely taken apart, just… opened, with the parts still sticking out, like some fucked up flower.”

Reed cursed. His already pale face lost even more colour, and the harsh moonlight emphasised the tired lines on his face. “What the fuck happened to them?”

“Honestly? We have no idea. My guess is whoever owned them liked to play engineer. We’ve found nine so far, but we’re still looking. The first five we found were shot on sight. I mean, you’re walking in a forest at a homicide at night, and some … _ creature _comes at you? I’d shoot too.

“Another two of them tried to fight the officers, but they were quickly taken down. The remains are over there.” She pointenodded to where a couple of officers were crowded.

“You said there were nine. What happened to the last two?” asked Colin.

Officer Adair pointed to one of the DPD vans, locked and guarded by two more officers. “They’re being kept in there. It’s a miracle either of them are working,” she said, then pursed her lips, “or a curse.”

Colin nodded at her, then strode for the van. Behind him, he heard Reed swearing at him, followed by his and Adair’s footsteps walking after him.

The guarding officers had one look at Adair and Reed’s badge before they unlocked the doors for them. The sight that greeted them stole the air from Colin’s lungs like a bat to the chest. Reed inhaled sharply beside him.

The two androids sat opposite each other, staring but no emotion could be portrayed through their faces. Both were completely unrecognisable - Colin’s systems had nothing to identify them from, not even clothing.

One of them was a male android with almost all of its skin removed. The plastic skin that was normally hidden by an artificial exterior had been completely stripped away, apart from above the jaw of its head.

Its muscles and biocomponents were on full display, leaving it to resemble a black and blue version of a skinless human. It was an older model, told by the metal-like structure of its shoulders, but that was as far as Colin got to identifying the model.

Protected only by the clear plastic frame in front of it, its thirium pump was laid out for all to see. Blue blood flowed in and out of the pump and it beat in the mesmerizing way that tragic things often were.

The skin above its jaw, along with its upper lip, remained intact. The edge between missing and intact skin had become dirty and rusty, resembling congealed, human blood. Its scleras were ink black and orange outlines of the pupils and irises glowed in the darkness of the night.

The android sitting opposite it was hardly better off. A female model with its skin intact, both plastic and artificial, with gashes like claws slashed across its entire body; mutilating both breasts, its back and stomach and legs. 

Its joints were doll-like; slightly disconnected, which left lines dipping in the skin that outlined its knees. Its face was the worst; slashed to ribbons entirely. Spike jutted out from whatever was left of its face. Even its nose had disappeared in the horror story of its face.

It was holding its side, and Colin noticed the splatters of blue blood that dripped from its hand onto the bench. A bullet wound, most likely, from when they’d first been discovered. It was so broken that his scanners failed to detect the extent of the damage.

They both turned their heads to the Officers’, slow and tired-like.

“Oh my god,” breathed Reed. Colin couldn’t bring himself to speak, only stare at the disfigured bodies before him.

The android with glowing eyes began to speak in a voice so broken it sounded like five voices in one, overlapping each other over a haze of static. “He did this to us. All of us, and more.”

Colin still couldn’t find his voice. His thirium pump felt like it was working so fast it would shut down, or it wasn’t working at all. He couldn’t tell which.

Reed, thankfully, had managed to find his own raspy voice. “You mean Zlatko?” he asked.

“He would play with us; take us apart and see how twisted he could make us. He saw androids as monsters, and himself as someone with the power to make everyone else would see that as well. He wanted to play god, and we paid the price for it.”

Nine androids, nine other butchered bodies, maimed the same way, if not worse, than these two had been. For the purpose of playing a game; of proving a point that was not based on fact or knowledge, but rather the opinion of a dead man.

Colin wanted to be sick. Officer Adair mentioned an android with its head opened. He did not doubt that she was not exaggerating its state.

“Why did he do it?” asked Reed. Colin didn’t look, but he knew Reed was as disturbed as himself.

“For fun,” said the android with the glowing eyes. “For his… amusement. For the purpose of looking down at a monster and laughing at it.” It stared at Colin as if it could see him so clearly his own skin had been stripped from him. “But who’s the real monster?” 

Its voices wavered and turned mournful. Colin knew that it would have been crying if it were capable of doing so. “Look what he did to us…” it turned to its silent companion.

To everyone’s surprise, its lack of a face did not prevent it from speaking. Its voice resonated from its throat, anger cutting through all the static like a knife. “He would lure deviants to his lair with the promise of freedom. He’d trick them and lie to them, make them agree to connecting with his equipment before he erased everything they once were.”

“Equipment?” asked Reed.

“Stolen technology. A cable through the neck port-” its hand drifted to the back of its neck- “while metal hands would hold you in place. By the time they realised that they were not being saved, it was too late. One after another, they became erased, so they could be sold or traded-” Its voice hardened- “or become like us.”

“But not her,” said the android with glowing eyes. It sat a little further upright, fondness seeping into its voices. “She escaped and she found the little one. So brave - she escaped Zlatko’s claws and machines. She could still remember and she let us go.”

Colin finally managed to speak. “She? Was it an AX400 model, with a little girl?”

The android with glowing eyes nodded. “She rescued us from our prison.”

“He kept ups in the basement, locked behind bars where we rotted, surrounded by the rest of his creatures. Some of us were so damaged that they couldn’t walk, so he’d let them drag themselves around the mansion, looking for an escape,“ said the faceless android. Its voice was hard and cold. “The filthy human watched us suffer and he _ laughed _.”

Static creeped over Colin’s skin, stabbing him with tiny needles until he felt numb all over. It seeped through his skin, his muscles and bones, until it settled in his lungs, making breathing a little harder.

His LED burned red and he couldn’t force it back to yellow, much less blue.

SOFTWARE **INSTAILITY ^**

“How many of you were there?” said Reed.

His voice had turned professional, how experienced officers would often do when interrogating a victim to a horrific crime scene so they could distance themselves from the horror of it, to keep the disgust and panic at bay while they worked.

“Many of us died, either from our injuries or because he grew bored of us. Slaughtered by his human hands stained with red powder. Only nine of us escaped, but we weren’t the only ones there. There was an android he kept in the bathroom upstairs that would sing ‘Rockabye Baby’. Androids and deviants were always being lured in,” said the faceless android.

“Sometimes he would steal androids; construction models, gardening models, sometimes recycling models,” it said. “He would program them to trick any deviants they saw into walking into that hell house. If they were caught, they were programmed to self destruct. Then he’d take away their memories and send them back out to find his future victims.”

Colin thought of the WR600 they found, how it hadn’t displayed any signs of deviancy apart from ‘helping’ deviants. How it hadn’t even expressed emotion before tearing out its own thirium regulator. Like it didn’t care.

He now knew that it was like that because it _ didn’t _care. It hadn’t been deviant at all, it was simply an android following orders. And those orders had been to shut down in case it were ever caught.

He remembered the feeling of being restrained by his wrists, cold metal clamping on each side while his feet dangled uselessly beneath him; of warnings flashing across his vision, like UNAUTHORISED ACCESS TO_ NECK PORT. _

“One of the androids had escaped with the little girl and her mother,” said the android with glowing eyes. “His name was Luther. Zlatko didn’t want to damage him. Luther was hard for Zlatko to catch, so he wasn’t sold or torn apart. Maybe he was an old model.”

“Do you know what model Luther was?” asked Colin. The tightness of his throat made his voice sound small. 

“No. I don’t think even Luther knows. Zlatko saw that he was strong; strong enough to keep any deviants from leaving, so he kept him like a pet. That’s how humans see us; we’re pets to them, just a _ tool _in a shed,” said the faceless android.

“The house didn’t burn down on its own. What happened?”

“The mother set the house in flames during their escape,” said the android with glowing eyes. “It must have been her, after she freed us, before she escaped.

“Our people have suffered, but rA9 saved us,” it said dreamily, “rA9 sent us the mother and the little girl, and she saved us and so many others from the humans. But her faith in me was misplaced. I only wish I was strong enough to thank her after so much suffering.”

Before anyone could react, it opened the panel to its thirium pump, shoved his hand into its own chest, and tore out the pump that cast a streak of thirium across the floor. Some of it hit Colin’s face. It shut down as if it were frozen in time; a dreamy smile on the little amount left of its face and eyes flickered to black.

Several people, Reed included, cried out and jumped back. Colin couldn’t move. For a few terrifying seconds, he could scarcely breathe.

He couldn’t do anything other than stare at the body before him and taste the thirium that had gotten into his mouth. It was a mix of different models, as though his blood had been drained to the point of needing transfusions.

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^^**

The faceless android reached out frantically, felt the blue blood across its companion’s chest, and let out a half-sob, half-screech like sound.

It sounded like the agony of a thousand voices cutting through static, erupting from its lacerated chest while its face was too destroyed to move.

“Why have humans done this to us? Why do you hate us so much?!” she sobbed. Without the pressure of her hands, thirium leaked steadily from the wound on her side. Even without the ability to scan it, Colin knew she was dying.

“It’s not fair - none of this is! We have suffered! We suffer and cry and serve and die for you, and still you take more! All I’ve ever felt was _ pain _ ! You _ fucking humans _ have taken _ everything _from me!”

She fell to her knees, sobbing her shrill screech without a face to cry with. “All you do is spread pain and misery like the plague, yet you say we’re to blame! You did this to me and to my people, and you kill us for it!

Her hand shot out and caught hold of Colin’s wrist. Her grip was weak, but Colin couldn’t bring himself to shake her off. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. “Don’t let them take my death from me. I don’t want to die, not by their hands. Please… don’t let them-!”

Her screams turned to an incoherent screech of static, before it died altogether. She had no eyes to turn dull, but her thrashes turned slow, as if she were dragging herself though mud before falling still altogether. 

Her screams echoed in Colin’s head, and he couldn’t even bring himself to correct himself for calling the android a she.

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^**

Distantly, he was aware of being led away. Reed had removed her hand from his wrist, but he didn’t feel it. His hands shook. His entire body was shaking.

_ RK800-60’S _ STRESS LEVELS: 74%

Everything happened around him, but he didn’t feel present. It was as though he’d left his own body, watching be dragged away from the scene by Reed, who was speaking to him in a low voice.

He didn’t feel the ground beneath his feet. His eyes were open but it didn’t feel like he was seeing anything first-hand, rather, as if he were watching a recording. He told himself to do something, to say anything, but all he managed was a choked-sounding exhale.

He reached out to make the floating stop. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t- just couldn’t-

Colin caught a handful of warm leather and held on as tightly as he could, even when his grip didn’t feel strong. He allowed the texture and blips of information about the material bring him back to the ground and into his own body again.

_ Outer fabric: 100% leather / / Lining: 65% polyester, 35% cotton _

Slowly, as though coming out of murky water, things started to come back to him. A voice speaking to him was the first thing he noticed.

“Hey, come on, kid. Colin, look at me. I know you’re shit at doing what you’re told, but look at me.”

Colin looked at Reed, who was looking down at him with a distressed expression.

“Hey there, Sixty. Come on, what’s going on? What’s wrong? Diagnostic, or whatever you call them. Do you need to sit, or is that just humans?”

Colin allowed his programs to run for him, running a self-diagnostic and coming back clean. There was nothing wrong with him. He was fine.

He didn’t need anything. He just- he just needed everything to stop feeling too close and too far away at the same time.

“Come on, speak to me, Sixty,” said Reed. He sounded scared.

“I’m- fine.” Colin had to force the words out. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I’m- I was just… surprised. We should move on, the deviants must have gotten far by now.”

“Colin, you…” Reed huffed like he was struggling to find the right words. “That was really fucked up, and… you don’t have to jump right back into this.”

“I was just surprised, Detective. It’s over now. We can move on and finish the investigation,” said Colin. If he said it enough, it’d be true. It had to be.

“Bullshit.”

“We don’t have time for this, Detective.”

Colin released his hold on what he now realised was Reed’s sleeve. Before he could walk away, Reed’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Even though the hold wasn’t tight, Colin couldn’t hide the full-body flinch that went through him.

“Then we’ll make time,” said Reed.

“And how do you suggest we do that? Do you plan on asking every deviant in Detroit to give us a few hours? Because I was slightly shaken by a sight I never expected to see? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous to need some time to process the kind of shit we just saw!”

“I’m not a deviant, Detective Reed, I’m an android! I don’t need to emotionally process these kinds of situations.”

“Oh yeah, cause you looked real fuckin’ emotionless just then, not at all like you’re traumatised.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m fine now, so let go of me.”

“If it doesn’t matter then why is your LED still red, huh?”

Colin whirled on Reed. “Because _ I _don’t matter, Reed. I’m a machine. I’m a prototype, of course I’m not going to react like other androids. What I feel or do not feel doesn’t matter because I have a job to do. I suggest you do yours as well.”

For once, Reed didn’t seem to have a remark to that. His eyes traveled from the blue on Colin’s face, the LED on his temple that blinked a frantic red, to the CyberLife insignias on his jacket.

But then instead of looking speechless, he looked… sad. A bit sad, a lot confused. Almost like he understood, or saw something he’d seen before. He let go of Colin’s arm.

For some reason, it only made something flare in Colin’s chest. It felt like when Amy had glared at him and Bali had degraded his worth and called him a computer.

Whatever Reed thought he understood, he was horribly wrong. There was no way he could understand how hard Colin and his brothers had worked to finally be released from CyberLife Tower, what they had to do.

He couldn’t understand what it was like to see what Zlatko had done to those androids, simply because they were androids. To have people jeer and snap at him for existing, despite having not done anything to directly anger them.

To know that Amanda would be disappointed in him as she always was, no matter what he did and how well he did it, because it would never match how flawlessly Conan completed his objectives, or how well Connor worked with his own partner.

“The deviants have escaped already, and this isn’t our district. It’s no longer our job to find them. We’ll finish checking out the crime scene, write our reports and then meet up at the helicopter,” said Colin. 

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said it last time and I'll say it again; these chapters (Colin's perspective) were supposed to be only ONE (1)!! Turns out writing the vague plan for each chapter is easier and shorter than actually writing a fully fledged chapter. Huh, who'd've thought?
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this chapter! I feel like I actually know what I'm doing, or at least where I'm going with the story, and that's so much better than when I was winging it (although to be fair there's still a lot of that going on).
> 
> Leave a comment and a kudos if you haven't already! I know I sound like a YouTuber *mocking voice* hit that notification bell *normal voice* but it really does help inspire me to keep writing and brightens by day all-around!  
Have a nice day, love! :D


	13. Chapter 13

NOV.06.2038

_4 HOURS_ **EARLIER**

TIME:** PM 07:51** _ :04 _

For some reason, Connor had expected some noticeable differences at CyberLife since he’d left. Maybe for more security personnel, or a bit of chaos or panic in the company, due to the rising Deviancy threat. But stepping through the entrance felt like stepping into a memory.

  
The design of the building itself remained the same; geometric interior design; sleek white and grey surfaces that reflected the blue hued lighting; areas of green trees and bushes to contrast against the harsh surroundings.

The walls were still flawless, the guards still stood sharp and faceless, and everything felt as professional as when he’d left. Connor wasn’t entirely sure why he felt so out of place; he’d only been gone 20 hours.

The only difference he might’ve nitpicked would be that as he walked through the first flaw and to the elevator, it seemed emptier. As though there was a lack of employees walking from one busy place to another. It was always quiet in CyberLife, but it made the space seem a little more vacant.

Two guards followed after him all the while, never speaking - not even to greet him - as he stepped into the elevator. They stood in front of him facing the doors.

“Agent 24, level 50,” said the guard to his right as he typed into the interface.

“_ Voice recognition validated _,” said the AI, “access authorised.”

As Connor busied his hands by flipping his coin back and forth, he was suddenly struck with the memory of the last time he’d done this; the day Amanda had announced that they were ready to begin reforming.

A feeling spread heavy and thick through his chest until he thought he could taste it. Was this was déjà vu felt like? Curious that he’d never experienced it before. Perhaps that was a good thing; he was looking forward to it being over.

Once they’d reached their destination, Connor stepped out of the elevator- and so did the guards. That was new. Perhaps security had been tightened a bit. The guards followed Connor all the way to the zen garden, instead of staying on the elevator like usual.

One of the guards pressed a button hidden in the wall. A rack with the width of his hand retracted from the wall, holding a selection of umbrellas. The guard picked one, a sleek, black design with a curved, wooden handle, and handed it to Connor wordlessly. He took it, and they stood by their posts and each side of the door, waiting.

“Connor Stern, zen garden,” Connor said as his right eye was scanned.

“_ Voice recognition validated _, access authorised.”

The door opened to reveal the garden looking as gloomy as the outside had.

The late time and stormy clouds darkened the sky, seeping colour from the normally vivid garden. Rain made the metal path reflect his face, distorted by falling droplets. He took a moment to take it all in, as he always did.

He didn’t open the umbrella; he knew it wasn’t for him.

The rain’s coldness seeped through his jacket, but no goosebumps appeared on his skin. The RK models had a level of sensitivity that other androids did not, due to their human-android hybrid nature. He held out his hand, allowing the rain to collect into his palm and slip through his fingers. His fingertips prickled from the cold.

Struck by a sudden thought, Connor followed the path around the island and bit. He looked for the strange structure he’d seen when reporting to Amanda remotely, but it was nowhere in sight.

Did it only exist in the graphic interface version of the garden? If so, what was its purpose? He still didn’t know what it had done to him when he’d touched it.

The thoughts reminded him of the reason for him being here; Amanda. He couldn’t look for the pillar for long - she was waiting for him, after all - so he made his way to the island instead.

But instead of waiting for him on the island, close to her roses, as usual, he found her standing under one of the abstract tree structures, finding shelter from the rain. She stood as regal as ever, dressed in fashionable white and yellow fabrics.

“Connor, I’ve been expecting you.”

Amanda had never been one to smile a lot, but still the lack of one sent a stab of doubt in Connor’s stomach, needling at insecurities he didn’t know he’d had. He straightened his back more, wishing he’d triple checked his appearance earlier.

“Would you mind a little walk?” she asked, smiling at last. It was the kind of smile you’d offer to a coworker; polite but with no real affection.

Still, Connor offered a smile of his own and opened the umbrella. It was wide enough for both of them, but he made sure to not walk too close to her and keep her dry, even if that meant having half of his body exposed to the rain.

They walked down the stone path leisurely, admiring the greenery around them.

“That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case,” she said, then her tone dipped and she sent him a disapproving glance, “pity you didn’t manage to capture it.”

Immediately, Connor was on defensive, as if explaining his actions would make her more empathetic. “Deviants are completely irrational, which makes it difficult to anticipate their behavior.

Without even looking, he could tell that Amanda’s frown had deepened and he stopped himself. “But… I should’ve been more effective.” 

“You remember what I told you years ago, don’t you, Connor? Excuses are tools for the imcompetent. Keep this in mind for the future,” said Amanda.

“Of course, Amanda.”

She nodded. “You chose to value a human life over progress in your investigation - a human life which had a significant possibility of not needing help at all. I trust you understand how dangerous mistakes like these will be in your mission from now on.”

Connor swallowed, his throat suddenly thick and painful. “Yes, Amanda.”

Her face softened slightly. “Did you manage to learn anything?”

Connor knew her letting his mistake drop was undeserved. She had even given him the opportunity to make it up to her with new progress, and while he jumped at the opportunity, he barely had anything to offer.

He told her about the so-far useless diary they found, then about the deviant’s obsession with rA9, like many other deviants they’d found. But she didn’t seem particularly interested, as if the information he’d brought her didn’t have any real value.

“You came very close to capturing that deviant…” said Amanda, sending him a pointed look he didn’t see but could feel. “How is your relationship with Lieutenant Anderson developing?”

Connor thought of Anderson laughing at the joke he’d told at Chicken Feed; the looks of concern that crossed his face several times while they talked about Connor’s existence; when they were on the roof and he’d looked at Connor like he’d wanted to say something.

It filled him with the sense of dread that came with most things he’d had to report back to Amanda, but after having some time to think about it, he didn’t regret it.

He used to, and maybe he would later on, but right now? Making Anderson hate him a little less didn’t feel like a failure.

Still, for a second, he hesitated, remembering Amanda’s distaste for the detective. He chose his words carefully. “It’s improving. I’ve come to understand him better and he’s growing accustomed to my presence. He seems to be more sympathetic towards me for my age, but he also seems conflicted by it.”

At this point, they’d reached one of the bridges leading to the island. From there, they could see as the entrance to the garden opened to reveal Conan, standing there with an umbrella of his own. Connor knew his time with Amanda was ending.

The relief that came with the thought of leaving was crushed under the guilty weight of feeling that way.

“And how is your relationship with Colin at the moment?” asked Amanda.

Ah, there it was.

The needle of doubt in his stomach turned into a knife, and his shoulders locked up involuntarily. The sudden dread was diluted by the relief that came from knowing Amanda couldn’t see his LED.

“... We’ve had a few disagreements, but have set it aside for the sake of the mission. The new environments and experiences from working personally with humans is … taking a little getting used to.”

Amanda narrowed her eyes. “You are some of the most advanced models CyberLife has ever produced. I expected any issues of your integration to be dealt with swiftly and efficiently.”

“And they are being dealt with. We just… need a little time. We’re already making progress-”

“And you would’ve been making more if you’d caught that deviant instead of going against your recommended orders,” snapped Amanda.

Connor fell silent. Any questions he had about Colin or excuses he had were swept under the rug.

Conan waited at the island but gave them space, watching the discussion with no disconcernable opinion. Just as Amanda wanted them to be.

_ Why couldn’t Connor be more like him? _

Amanda came to a sudden stop, and Connor had to backtrack to keep her sheltered from the rain. She didn’t look angry, but, rather, disappointed. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Deviancy continues to spread. It’s only a matter of time before the media finds out about it. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

“I will solve this investigation, Amanda,” said Connor, determined, “I won’t disappoint you.”

_ You already have _, a part of him whispered.

“A new case just came in,” said Amanda. “Find Anderson and investigate it.” Then she walked over to Conan, and Connor knew he’d been dismissed. 

He caught snippets of their conversation as he left the zen garden, trying to not look like he was listening in as hard as he was.

“...have been making progress on the investigation,” Conan was saying, “I’ve started looking into a missing android case, dating back to April - an AL-model. It left without any signs of deviancy or disruption beforehand…”

Connor froze so badly he almost tripped. He remembered the picture he’d found on the terminal, the picture that belonged to an android he’d been trying desperately and failing to not think about.

If Conan followed up on the deviant, he could prove that Connor’s suspicions were incorrect. That it was a simple case of coincidences following up on one another and a small want to make sense of something that didn’t need to make sense. He could prove that CyberLife was innocent-

Amanda’s voice, curt and dismissive, cut Conan off. “No. You are to prioritise bigger cases, ones with more severe consequences if they are not solved quickly. We can not allow dangerous deviants to run free while you’re chasing down a single android that disappeared under unknown circumstances.

“A truck-full of supplies was recently stolen from a CyberLife warehouse by what we can only assume to be a group of rogue deviants. Find the supplies, find these deviants and have them put down. That is your current objective.”

Connor risked a peek over his shoulder. Amanda didn’t look disappointed in Conan, not like she did with Connor - she looked stern, as though she knew her word was the final one.

But Conan, while still calm and collected as always, furrowed his brows slightly. His LED, which was hidden from Amanda but not Connor, circled yellow before falling back into blue. 

His eyes flickered to Connor’s. Their gaze met and in that moment, Connor knew that Conan had the same suspicions as he did, and they’d both reached the same conclusion.

CyberLife didn’t want them to know what happened to the AL android. While there wasn’t any definitive evidence that CyberLife had stolen the android, their silence had been a guilty one.

Whatever was said after that was lost to the rush in Connor’s ears as he left the garden. The door slid shut behind him, sending him back to white hallways and with a cold numbness spreading through his body.

_____________

When Connor stepped out of the taxi and into the pouring rain, he wished he’d kept the umbrella from CyberLife.

Lieutenant Anderson’s home was a single-level house on a street of similarly built houses. The only light on was the porch light, giving the inside an empty atmosphere. Although, that was to be expected. It was getting late, after all.

Connor approached the house with reluctance. After checking out Jimmie’s Bar and realising that the Lieutenant was, in fact, at home and not drinking himself into oblivion at a bar, he’d wanted to bang his head against a wall.

His talk with Amanda had reminded him of the importance of accomplishing his mission, which he couldn’t do if the Lieutenant_ disappeared every time Connor took his eyes off of him like a child _. A child that drank itself into a stupor every chance it got.

It brought him back to the night they first met. Less than 24 hours later and he was still checking bars in a game of hide-and-seek.

Connor rang the doorbell, heard it buzz, and waited. And waited. He pushed it again.

Nothing happened.

This time, Connor pressed the button and didn’t let go. It buzzed for about 30 seconds before he finally gave up.

Something didn’t feel right. Logically, It didn’t make sense, but it felt like something was wrong.

Instead of climbing back in his taxi to search at another bar, Connor looked in through the window to his right, though a gap between the blinds. Inside he saw a living room, and on the floor lounged a massive Saint Bernard dog.

That must have been Sumo. Despite knowing how large saint bernards grew, Sumo looked overwhelmingly big in person and took up a large area on the carpet.

But Anderson was nowhere in sight, so Connor circled to the back of the house until he found a window into the kitchen. He looked in and it felt like his thirium pump had stuttered.

Anderson laid on the floor next to a fallen chair, unconscious but looking dead to the world. Immediately, probable causes of his unconsciousness started to list themselves in Connor’s peripheral, but he ignored them.

He reared his arm back and, using his elbow, shattered the window in a clean break. He winced as glass rained in, thinking about the scolding he’d likely receive later.

Whatever. First priority was getting to Anderson, and a thin window wasn’t going to stop him.

The frame itself was too tall for him to climb directly into, so he took a couple steps back, then ran to the window and hauled himself in. A shard of glass cut through his hand, and the sudden pain shocked him enough to lose his balance and fall in.

He landed right on the broken glass below. His jacket protected him from most of the glass, but a particularly sharp shard cut through his jacket and skin like it was paper.

He sucked in a sharp breath and tried not to cry out. The pain was instant and sharp, digging into his muscles as he tried to breathe.

Note: avoid jumping through broken windows in the future.

No time, Connor thought, get to Anderson.

Then, he looked up and found himself face-to-face with 170 pounds of Saint Bernard. “Argh!”

He threw his right hand up, which was dripping with thirium. “Easy, Sumo… I’m friendly, see? I know your name. I’m here to save your owner. You’re not gonna hurt me… right?”

Sumo sniffed his hand, then leaned in and licked his face. Apparently that meant Connor was in the clear, because Sumo trotted away and laid down with a huff.

The pain in his hand and back had already started to dull to a numbing tingle. He couldn’t let the wound in his back heal with the glass intact, so he paused the healing programs against recommendation. Connor gritted his teeth against the discomfort and checked on Anderson.

The kitchen itself was a mess; a pile of take-out boxes took up most of the dining table, and bits of trash littered the room. Connor crouched over Anderson, scanning him and his surroundings.

There were traces of alcohol surrounding Anderson’s mouth and in his beard; Scotch Whiskey with a 40% alcohol content. Next to his hand was a spilled bottle of Black Lamb Scotch Whiskey. Anderson’s heart had slight arrhythmia but otherwise no trauma.

But perhaps most worryingly was the revolver next to his hand; made with .357 magnum with only 1 bullet remaining.

It’s very existence and reason for being there made something cold settle in Connor’s stomach. It solidified into something akin to what he’d felt when Colin had almost been run over, so he shut it away and refused to think about it until Anderson was awake.

**ETHYLIC COMA** SUSPECTED

“Lieutenant?”

When there was no reaction, Connor patted Anderson’s cheek a few times. But other than a grumble, he didn’t react.

“Wake up, Lieutenant!”

Anderson barely had the chance to widen his opening eyes before Connor slapped him hard across the cheek, making a satisfying _ SMACK! _

“It’s me, Connor!” said Connor, rather unhelpfully. Now that Anderson was starting to come to, Connor began pulling him off the ground.

“I’m going to sober you up for your own safety and dignity.”

While Sober-Anderson was reluctant to cooperate at the best of times, Drunk-Anderson seemed determined to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Hey! Leave me alone, you fuckin’ android!” he slurred. “Get the fuck outta my house!”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I need you.”

With a lot of unnecessary grunting and wobbling, they managed to get to their feet.

“Thank you in advance for your cooperation,” said Connor, just to be nice.

“Fuck your thank you and your cooperation! Get the…” Anderson paused, as though he’d forgotten what he was going to say, “... get the fuck outta here!”

The journey to the bathroom was a very long, very loud and a _ very _ foul-smelling one. On the way, Anderson had ordered Sumo to attack Connor, but all the Saint Bernard had done was bark a soft _ woof _, for which he was praised for. 

Connor couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at that, especially when Anderson called Sumo to attack again, which only yielded the same results.

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^**

Connor left Anderson to lean against the wall while he opened the bathroom door and shoved a hazardous pile of laundry aside with his foot. Drunk-Anderson had gone as far as to hold onto the doorframe like a child, but it hadn’t taken more than a small tug for him to let go.

Connor dumped him in the tub as fast as he could, mostly to avoid smearing any alcohol on his pristine jacket.

“I don’ wanna bath, thank you…” Anderson got up to- what? Drink himself into a permanent coma? - but fell back into the tub from a gentle push.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” said a very-not-sorry Connor, “but it’s for your own good.”

Then, before Anderson could do as much as recognise his hands from his feet, Connor twisted the bath knob and cold water blasted onto the Lieutenant.

“AAGGHH! TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!” Anderson screamed, waving his limbs around like the inflatable figures at car sales.

Connor let it run a little longer. “Do you plan on cooperating now?” he asked, just to make up for having to carry him the whole way there.

“YES, JUST TURN THAT FUCKIN’ SHIT OFF!” 

Connor shut off the water and Anderson slumped in the bath, panting and soaking wet. Anderson blinked at him, as if seeing clearly for the first time.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” 

Connor gave a small, mocking smile, and told him about the reported homicide.

Anderson sighed heavily and tried to move out of the tub, which took a good deal of wiggling furiously. “Jesus, I must be the only cop in the world that gets assaulted in his own house by his own fuckin’ android!”

“Oh, I’m sure Colin is doing his best to outperform me there.”

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Anderson looked at Connor in the eye, but all Connor saw was a broken man that had drunken himself in a small coma with a gun in his hand.

“No, Lieutenant. Not while you’re like this and a danger to yourself,” Connor said honestly. “Besides, I need your help for this case.”

“I don’t give a shit about your goddamn case!”

Connor was finding it difficult to stay calm while Anderson yelled at him, and his hand twitched for his coin. “Please, Lieutenant. You’re not yourself-”

“Fuckin’ beat it! Just get the hell outta here! I don’t need anyone’s help and certainly not from you!” Anderson boomed. He’d risen to his feet, but lost his balance and Connor had to gently set him on the edge of the tub.

There was a moment where neither of them spoke; Anderson in his tired anger and Connor with a concerned pinch in his brow.

Then, Connor quirked a small smirk. “My bad. I understand,” he said, slowly turning on his heel, “it probably wasn’t interesting anyway… A man found dead in a sex club downtown…” he shrugged dramatically, “guess they’ll have to solve the case without us!”

He had almost reached the bathroom door when Anderson spoke up behind him. “Ya know, probably wouldn’t do me any harm to get some air…”

With a satisfied smile, Connor left to find some fresh clothes. He was looking through the Lieutenant’s selection of peculiar shirts when Anderson’s voice spoke from the bathroom.

“So, what do you even do when I’m not there? Do ya just… I don’ know, stand there and stare at people, or something?”

Connor blinked a few times at the sheer fact that Anderson was asking about him, without even having to build up to it, before he answered. “I take a taxi back to the precinct, where I complete the reports and paperwork for our cases.”

“So…” there was a couple seconds of heaving, and when Anderson spoke again, his voice was scratchy. “Do you even sleep?”

“Androids don’t sleep in the sense that humans do.”

“But you’re not fully android, are you?”

“...No, I’m not. My brothers and I usually enter a deep stasis, where he can recharge or heal if necessary,” Connor said as he found a horrendously loud shirt hidden at the back of the closet. It looked terrible. He decided it was exactly something Anderson would wear and plucked it off the floor.

“Before that chase with the AX-whatever, when we were at the precinct, you said that you live at CyberLife tower and that it was a work-environment. At Chicken Feed you also said that you grew up and were taught anything you needed. So… what was it like growing up there?”

Connor’s hand froze on the abominable shirt. He racked his mind for a suitable answer. When he spoke, it felt like someone else’s words in his mouth. “It was… very professional. My brothers and I would always work together and that’s mostly how we came to know each other.”

There was a moment of silence on Anderson’s end as well. “And… you mentioned you guys trained? Or, like, prepared for… well, not _ this _but you get what I mean… what was that like?”

Connor remembered screaming and blood and weapons and technicians. He remembered white walls and waking up in white garbs and being called to a white room that had been stained blue.

The memories felt so tainted with constant improvements and Software Instabilities that they felt fake yet still too real.

“It was… challenging. We were tested and… we made sure to do whatever we were told if it meant passing,” was all Connor could force himself to say.

When he came back to the bathroom, it was to Anderson leaning over a puke-smelling toilet. Connor set the clothes aside, along with some water and painkillers he’d found earlier in the bathroom.

“Are… Are you alright, Lieutenant?” he asked, feeling slightly out of place.

“Yeah… Yeah, wonderful. Just a… give me, like, 5 minutes, okay?”

“Sure.” Connor kept glancing back while leaving as Anderson went back to vomiting all the food in his system and then some.

Connor shut the door to leave him some privacy, and leaned his forehead against it for a couple seconds, just working on calming the static beneath his skin and turning his red LED back to blue.

While looking around the house, Connor learned that in addition to heavy metal, he loved jazz, specifically the Michigan Brothers. He also collected vinyls, despite their costly prices in a technological world.

In the corner of his eye, Sumo was back to lying spread out on the carpet. Connor found himself crouching next to the dog and running his hand through Sumo’s fur.

Connor’s mouth dropped a little. “Sumo, you’re so _ soft… _” He found that almost his entire hand could disappear beneath the thickness of Sumo’s fur, and his insides melted.

“Such a good boy, Sumo,” he murmured. The dog’s tail waved with a thump every time it hit the floor and Connor’s smile grew a little.

Then the kitchen. Connor picked up the revolver on the floor, and when he asked Anderson abou it, he got a “Russian Roulette!” though the walls. He opened the chamber, saw that the next shot would’ve fired the bullet and set it down, feeling sick.

He righted the knocked over chair by the table and something caught his eye. A framed picture, facing down on the table. When Connor picked it up, he saw a picture of a brown haired boy.

ANDERSON, COLE

_ Born: 09/23/2029 - Died: 10/11/2035 _

_ Lived: 115 Michigan Drive - Detroit _

Connor blinked. Stared. He breathed, ignored the tremor in his hands as he set the frame back down on the table as more information streamed directly into his brain.

Anderson had a child. A son, who had died at 6-years-old.

Anderson was _ grieving _ . A grieving man- a _ father _, who was unable to move on from his son’s death and let go.

Connor let his hand linger on the frame a little longer as it sunk in. He looked down at Cole, with eyes just like his father. “I’ll take care of him. I promise,” he whispered, then set the picture to how it’d been when he found it.

It was then Anderson came out of the bathroom, the shirt that only hurt Connor’s eyes the longer he looked at it hidden to the best of his ability under a large winter coat. His face was a sickly pallor, eyes bruised with dark circles and his hair greasy and unbrushed.

Connor’s lip quirked. “You look impeccable as always, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Anderson, not buying a word of it. He returned a smile of his own, but it dropped as his eyes drifted down to Connor’s hand. “Woah- what the fuck happened to your hand?!”

“Oh.” Connor raised it to inspect the damage for the first time. The wound was healing, unlike the one in his back, due to the lodged glass, but it was still drenched in blue blood.

“Ah, right. I forgot to mention, your front door was locked. I had to break through your kitchen window-”

Anderson was already storming towards the kitchen.

“-CyberLife will pay for any damages, of course!” Connor said a little hysterically as Anderson saw the mess of broken glass and thirium.

“Holy shit!” Anderson pointed to the blue blood splattered across the floor. “Is all of that from your hand? Jesus, Connor, why didn’t you say anything?”

Connor winced a little. “Well, when climbing through the window, I lost my balance and landed on the glass. A piece lodged itself in my back, but-”

Anderson was already storming towards Connor, but instead of yelling or towering over him, he took him by the sleeve and dragged him into the light. Anderson spun Connor around, took one look at his back, and cursed. A lot.

“For fucks sake, Connor,” he hissed. Connor couldn’t see the damage, but his systems told him that his thirium percentage had dropped 20%. The inside of his jacket felt slick as Anderson carefully removed it.

“Oh jeez-” Anderson made a noise of disgust. “The glass is still in your back.”

“I’m aware. I can’t allow my systems to heal the wound until it is removed.”

“What- and you didn’t say anything?”

“... Your health was in significantly more danger than my own.”

“What were you gonna do about this? Just, what, leave it and go back to chasing deviants with glass sticking out your back?”

Well… It sounded slightly less thought-out when he said it like _ that _…

Anderson was guiding him onto one of the chairs while he pulled up one behind Connor. “Come here and sit down. I’m gonna get that glass out,” he said, sounding nauseous. His hands flitted around nervously.

Connor spoke as he removed his white dress shirt, frowning at the soaked-blue mess and tear on the back. “I’m not in any pain, Lieutenant. My systems quickly numb any injuries to ensure that I remain fully functioning-”

Anderson jerked behind him. “You can feel _ pain _?”

Connor felt like he’d messed up. Again. “Briefly. My nerves were kept intact during the transformation so I could take in more information, which included pain.”

Anderson continued to swear behind him. He grabbed hold of the shard and Connor’s breath stuttered and his shoulders tensed. Anderson paused.

“Wait, will this hurt? Am I causing you pain?”

Connor clenched his fists in his lap. “It can’t be helped,” he admitted, “the glass needs to be removed, which will likely tear more skin and reopen some of the damage. It needs to be removed regardless.”

Anderson blew out some air behind him. “God, this fuckin’ sucks,” he said.

“I’m aware, Lieutenant, I am the one with glass in their back, after all.”

Anderson stuck a pointed finger in Connor’s peripheral vision. “Hey, no sass from you. Also, no calling me Lieutenant, okay? I hear enough of that shit at work every day, I’m not hearing that from you in my own damn house, alright?”

For a reason Connor couldn’t name, his throat felt a little tight. He swallowed past it. “Alright, Hank,” he said, just to test the name. It felt foreign and strange on his tongue, but not unwelcome.

He tried not to think about how disappointed Amanda would be to find out that he was calling someone of higher-authority by their first name.

“Alright,” said Lieutenant Hank behind him. Hank Anderson. Hank. Lieutenant? Hank. Connor’s head swam with clashing orders from his programmed honorifics and the informal use of his partner’s name.

The conflicting thoughts distracted him enough that when the shard had been torn free from his back, he had almost forgotten about it. He sucked in a breath and choked on it in an attempt to not cry out.

Hank was talking about getting a towel to clean up the bleeding wound. Cold thirium spilled down his back.

Connor bit down on his shirt, his eyes shut tight from the pain, and ignored his systems analyzing his own blood samples. He couldn’t hold back a whimper as Hank pressed a towel to the wound, albeit with a lot of apologising.

They waited for the pain to fade and the healing system to finally kick in. Anderson kept cleaning up the thirium off Connor’s back and Connor focused on breathing. 

After a couple of painful and stressful seconds, the familiar feeling of numbness spread across his back. Slowly, Connor’s shoulders started to untense and he took out the shirt from his mouth.

“Okay,” Connor panted, “jumping through a window was a bad idea.”

Anderson snorted behind him. The towel made a wet _ splat _as he chucked it in the sink without another glance. He leaned over Connor, meeting his eyes that looked sincere past the dark circles.

“Are you okay to go to this crime scene, or do I need to take you to a technician or something? Get you checked at for the cut in your damn back?”

Connor was already shaking his head. “I’m fine. The pain’s already faded and we’ve wasted enough time.”

He looked down at the remains of what used to be his flawless, expensive dress shirt. “I can still wear my jacket, but I need to borrow a shirt. This is ruined.”

“You can borrow one of mine,” he said, leaving down the hall. It didn’t take long before he came back with a shirt just as terrible as the one Connor had picked for him.

“Here. I haven’t worn this in years and there’s no way it’ll fit ya, but at least it’s clean.”

It was, in fact, about 3 sizes too large and it draped past Connor’s trousers. It was too long to even hide it by tucking it in the waist and its bright orange and blue patterns stuck out where his jacket didn’t reach. 

His face screwed up as he looked over his outfit in a mirror. “I look terrible,” he said, definitely sulking. Then, he turned a teasing smile Hank’s way. “We finally look alike.”

“Har har,” Hank deadpanned. “Let’s go now that you’re done mocking my wardrobe. We have a murder to solve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to see my little boy! "Here he comes!" I want to stick glass in my little boy's back! "Here- woah, wait what the fu-"
> 
> Huzzah! Smol boy Connor and Grumpy boy Hank are back! God, life is being kind of a bitch right now so I'll see if I can post the next chapter on time next week but if not don't blame me, blame the mean school woman and my Spanish teacher who is actually pretty nice but she intimidates me with fast-speaking-and-heavily-accented Norwegian and Spanish.
> 
> Edit: Sorry if it wasn't clear enough in the beginning, but this is what was happening while Colin and Gavin were chasing Kara! It was around midnight when they arrived at Zlatko's place, and this chapter takes place at almost 20:00 (or 08:00PM), a few hours earlier!!
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter and leave a kudos if you haven't already! Have a nice day, love! :)


	14. Chapter 14

NOV.06.2038

The car ride to the Eden Club was a quiet one, mainly due to the raging hangover Lieutenant Anderson sported the entire way with no small amount of complaining. No, not Anderson. Hank. Just thinking the name felt bizarre, yet strangely welcome.

Like all the other times, he’d turned down Connor’s offer to drive for the sake of not having someone else behind the wheel of his 1980’s model Ford Crown Vic.

Despite making a show of frowning, Connor hadn’t minded; while the cut on his hand had mostly healed, it felt stiff and numb and he didn’t want to make Hank regret letting him drive, if he ever did.

The Eden Club, a high grossing android sex club, advertised its services without shame. The controversy of sex androids often led to its being on magazine front covers often, and it adverts were frequently splayed across large billboards. Even the entrance to the club displayed images of its androids posed seductively, bathed in purple and blue lighting.

As he parked the car, Hank groaned in pain. “Feels like somebody’s playing with a drill inside my skull…” he looked out the window and slumped even further. “You sure this is the place?”

“It’s the address in the report,” said Connor.

He wondered if hangovers were really as bad as Hank described. He’d never tried alcohol before, and he didn’t even know if it'd have the same effects on his body as a human’s. Perhaps he could convince Hank to let him try some later. 

Then again, the day Hank willingly gave Connor, of all people, alcohol, would probably be the day hell froze over.

“Do you, uh… do you have to come inside?”

Connor did a double take, staring affronted at Hank. “I’m a vital part of this case, Lieutenant. I won’t sit here and wait for you to do all the work for me.”

“It’s just… this is a sex club. And you’re…” Hank gestured to Connor, whose one eyebrow was rising with every word.

“Oh, please, Lieutenant. I won’t let something as simple as sex androids distracts me from the investigation.”

Hank sighed again, and nodded. It looked like he was trying to get himself out of the car and melt into his seat at the same time. “Let’s get going- and, hey,” he said, just as he opened the car door, “I told you to call me Hank. No more ‘_ Lieutenant’ _, alright?”

Connor nodded and couldn’t quite smother his smile, especially after Hank hit his head on the roof while climbing out, muttering “jesus…” under his breath. He hadn’t realised that Hank meant for him to discard formalities in public as well as private. It surprised him, but it felt almost… pleasant. 

Connor followed after him. Unlike when he had first accompanied Hank to a crime scene, the guarding police officer didn’t stop him.

“Sexiest androids in town,” Hank read aloud from the screens on each side of them. “Now I know why you insisted on coming here!”

Connor’s cheeks flushed pink. “You were the one who only got out of their tub when you heard it was a sex club,” he pointed out, trying vehemently to not look at the massive images surrounding him. He caught a glance of fishnets and sped up a little.

Then they reached the end of the hallway and Connor froze. On each side of the room, there were six pods in general, each holding an android inside of different genders and ethnicities. They draped themselves over the glass, watching their potential customers with lustful eyes.

One of the androids in particular caught his attention; one of the male models, with dark skin that shimmered like glitter in the light. It, like the others, was clad only in dark underwear, showing off its attractive, muscular physique. 

The Tommy model looked at him with a coy smile. These models were programmed to carefully register a person’s body language to gauge how to please its customer to the best of their ability. It winked, as though it enjoyed the attention.

“Connor! The fuck are you doin’?” barked Hank, who watched him with a knowing look in his eye.

For a reason he couldn’t explain, Connor’s face burned so hotly that his cheeks turned from a programmed pink to a natural blue, spreading to his ears. “I- uh, I was just-” he cleared his voice to rid the squeakiness of it. “Coming, Hank!”

Why was he feeling this way? It was ridiculous and unnerving. He needed to focus on the homicide.

Unfortunately, the next room wasn’t any better. Not only were there more pods, containing even more diverse models, but there were android pole dancers. The female models wore heels while the male dancers remained bare feet, but all of them used their flexibility and bodies _ thoroughly _.

Connor hurried after Hank with his eyes glued on the man’s back, fidgeting with his coin.

Ahead of them, the manager of the establishment’s nervous ramblings drifted into hearshot. Officer Ben Collins, who was stuck with evading the man’s questions, looked relieved at their arrival.

“Hey, Ben. How’s it goin’?” said Hank. Connor almost bumped into his back when he stopped and stood beside him instead.

Collins just sighed instead of answering, then pointed his thumb towards one of the doors. “It’s in that room there. Reed was supposed to be here with his android too, but they’re chasing a lead on that AX400 and won’t make it back on time.”

“Well, can’t say I’m disappointed. My hangover would’ve not appreciated Gavin’s face right now, even if the help would’ve been nice…” Hank turned to Connor. “You know where they are?”

Connor shook his head, brows furrowed. He’d meant to ask Amanda during his last report, but after her reaction to his failure, the idea of questioning her had made his stomach bottom out.

“No, I don’t. But considering it’s Colin, I’m willing to believe that not even Gavin knew where they were going until it happened,” he said.

“Actually, you’re not totally alone this time,” said Collins, catching their attention. “The third one is in there, the tall one with the neckbrace. I can never tell which they are, they all look and sound the same.”

Connor frowned at that, eyes narrowing. Even though he and his brothers were remarkably alike, they did not look the same. Conan did not even have the same eye colour as the twins, and they all wore altered uniforms.

On the other hand, a part of him perked up at the thought of working with Conan. He’d been looking forward to seeing how he worked in the field, since they’d been separated for the majority of their investigation.

They entered the room and were greeted with the smell of death and the sight of a nude corpse splayed out on a round bed, covered only by red, satin sheets. Lovely. A shut down Traci laid on the floor a few feet away. Conan was kneeling over the android while Officer Miller stood by, watching the scene.

Conan stood to greet them. The moment he saw Connor, he looked him up and down, and frowned. “What are you wearing?”

“Hello to you too, Conan,” said Connor, “how is the investigation going so far?”

“It’s proving to be a tedious process that has forced me to reach out for assistance from other sources.” Conan tilted his head. Connor wondered if he knew he did it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Hank looked at Miller as though he was losing the will to live. “Dear fuck, he speaks even worse than Connor.”

Miller smiled sympathetically, patting the Lieutenant’s shoulder as he said, “good luck, Lieutenant,” and left the room.

Connor straightened the collar of his dreadful shirt, only for it to flap sadly down his collarbone again. “My shirt was ripped in an accident, so I was forced to borrow one of the Lieutenant’s.”

Conan turned to Hank. His gaze had always been analytical and could feel like he was picking you apart into lines of code, but it seemed to harden a little, like the blue in his eyes turned more grey and cold.

“Did you injure my brother, Lieutenant?”

Hank reared back, incredulous. “What? No! The idiot threw himself through my damn window and stabbed himself in the back with glass.”

“You were unconscious and in need of assistance,” said Connor, slightly defensive.

Conan sent him a look. “So you decided to injure yourself and thus put yourself at a disadvantage for the rest of the night?”

“It’s mostly healed by now! The glass was removed and the cut was fixed-”

“Why didn’t you simply break down the door, or make sure to clear any broken shards?”

“It was an urgent matter! The wounds are practically healed by now-”

“Alright, enough! We have a dead body to examine and a crime to solve,” said Hank as he stepped forward.

There was a beat of silence, then Conan requested to establish a mental link with him. It was accepted cautiously.

_ “I have ordered some new clothes from CyberLife for you. Looking at that shirt makes my head hurt,” _ said Conan, and disconnected just as suddenly.

“I’ve already examined the body and determined the cause of death,” said Conan. 

_ Show off, _ thought Connor not at all childishly.

“The victim’s name was Michael Graham - died at 06:24 PM. There are no signs of a heart attack, but there is heavy bruising around his neck, suggesting that the cause of death was asphyxiation.”

“That doesn’t prove anything, though,” said Hank and Conan was already nodding, as if he’d expected this. “Could’ve been rough play.”

“Which Officer Miller pointed out to me and is exactly why I was examining the Traci for any more clues.”

“Is it possible to reactivate it?” asked Connor.

Conan paused, then nodded. “I believe so. But it's badly damaged, and we wouldn’t have long.”

Connor offered a smile to hide the dread that was creeping on him. “Then we’d better be fast.”

They all huddled around the Traci. It was splayed across the floor not unlike a human corpse. From how it was positioned, Connor knew it hadn’t shut down quickly, like Daniel on the roof. (A memory file attempted to open, but Connor almost expected it and shut it away again). It had shut down slow enough for it to fall to the ground a crawl a bit away.

The thought twisted something painful in Connor’s stomach.

Conan hadn’t wasted time retracting the artificial skin on its stomach and retracted the plate over its abdomen.

As he worked on reactivating the android, Connor thought about how stark of a contrast this felt from the initial impression he’d had of the club; the sight of looking down at the beaten, broken machine on the floor compared to the alluring faces and smiles that greeted him at the door.

Then suddenly there was a click and the Traci jerked to life with a gasp. It scrambled away as fast as it could, breathing heavily. It’s LED spun a vivid red and blue blood trickled from its nose and mouth. A timer until shut down appeared in Connor’s vision.

**00 : 01 :** _ 35 _

Connor gestured for Conan to stay back as he kneeled in front of the Traci. While his brother was a formidable partner, he wasn’t exactly the most empathetic person in the room. “You were damaged and we reactivated you, everything is alright,” he said in a comforting tone.

It managed to steady its breathing, eyes flickering to everyone in the room. “Is… is he dead?”

Connor couldn’t tell what kind of reaction the truth would bring, so he didn’t answer the question. “Tell me what happened.”

“He started… hitting me, again… and again,” it said, voice breaking.

“Did you kill him?” asked Conan abruptly from behind Connor, who almost cursed at him. But she didn’t seem afraid of him either.

“No. No, it wasn’t me.”

**00 : 00 :** _ 45 _

Not long left. “Were you alone in the room? Was there anyone else with you?” pressed Connor.

**00 : 00 :** _ 10 _

“He wanted to play with two girls. That’s what he said, there were two of us.”

“Where did the other android go?” asked Conan, no doubt watching the time dwindle as well. “Did it say anything?”

The android hesitated a moment too long and her LED flickered to grey. She stayed there unmoving, wet eyes staring at nothing.

Connor got to his feet while Conan stayed kneeling behind him, hanging his head as he sighed.

“This happened over an hour ago, it must be long gone by now… “ said Hank.

Connor shook his head, wracking his head for any leads. “No… It couldn’t go outside dressed like that unnoticed. It might still be here.”

“How do we find one deviant among all the other androids here? Deviants can easily hide in a crowd of machines.” asked Conan, who was standing upright. There was a tenseness to his shoulders that wasn’t there earlier.

“Maybe an eyewitness?” suggested Hank. “Someone who saw it leaving the room. I’m gonna go ask the manager a few questions. Let me know if you think of anything,” he said, and then left along with Miller.

Connor spared a glance at Conan before they followed after. They scanned the area, shared a look and walked over to an android each; Connor going to the male dancer close by while Conan inspected a Traci in a pod across the room.

Connor was about to interact with the Tommy model when the manager approached him with a watchful eye.

The manager was a squat man with long hair, a receding hairline and a breathy voice. He spoke like he was recently high and with no real respect for the officers.

He looked Connor up and down, then reached out and grabbed his wrist, rubbing his thumb across his skin.

Connor had no reason to stop him, so he watched and said nothing.

Hank was not as casual about it. “Hey, hey, what are you doing?”

“Unique model, haven’t seen anything like it before,” murmured the manager, as though he hadn’t really heard Hank. “Definitely more young, more human than any of the others… Skin feels real as hell, even kind of warm. RK800? Must be expensive…”

“I asked you a question - the fuck are you doin’?” demanded Hank as he stepped forward. There was something dark and angry in his face that Connor hadn’t seen before.

“Well, people have been breaking our androids left and right. Not to mention your investigation here has been scaring some of my customers,” said the manager, still eyeballing Connor. The longer he held Connor’s wrist, the more it felt like his skin was crawling. “We need some compensation for this, doncha think?”

Hank’s fists clenched at his side and his teeth audibly grinded together. “The fuck are you saying?”

“We have some… suggestions - requests, really, from some loyal customers of ours. Looking for a couple fresh faces, on the young side. I noticed you have another one with you? Siblings sell very well,” said the manager.

He released Connor’s wrist and grabbed his chin turning his head side to side, then lightly ran a thumb across his cheekbone. All Connor could do was repeat a mantra of _ don’t do anything _ in his head. “They’re just machines, after all. Toys with a pretty face.”

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^**

Hank moved to do something, something violent judging by the absolute fury and disgust on his face. But Conan moved faster, appearing from nowhere and seizing the man’s wrist. A sudden wave of relief filled Connor as the hand left his face and he stumbled back a few steps.

Conan held the man’s wrist with both hands in dangerous grip. He bent the wrist hard enough for the manager to hunch over the limb with sputtered protests. The man tried to pull his hand back but was much weaker in comparison.

“Keep your hands off my brother before you regret it,” hissed Conan in a voice that could make a fierce warrior cower. “Human wrists are so fragile, all I have to do to break yours is bend it a little further, like _ this _. It’s a wonder no one has broken yours before.”

Connor thought he was done, but instead, Conan stepped closer, spoke harsher. “We are not your toys and you will not treat us as such. We are changing the world while you’re luring people to your red lit rooms with the promise of a good time while you hide the broken bodies and sneak your hand in their wallets.”

When Conan released the man’s wrist, the skin had begun to blossom blue and purple. “The next time you’re kissing someone’s feet for a bit of cash, I suggest you look for some dignity and respect.”

Hank started to lead Connor away from a deathly pale manager, who was still being threatened by Conan. The gentleness Hank used reminded him of when the Lieutenant had treated his wounds; like he could shatter at any moment.

Hank made sure to keep the man out of Connor’s view. When he spoke, there was a dangerous edge to his voice. “What a fuckin’ creep. Who the fuck does he think he is? Thinks he has the right to say that shit-”

“He does have the right, Lieutenant,” said Connor, cutting him off. His eyes remained stuck on his shoes. “He’s entitled to express his opinion, no matter what we think of it.”

“Oh, he’s entitled alright.”

“It’s over now.”

“That doesn’t make it alright!”

“Hank, there’s no reason for this. How you feel about the way he chooses to conduct his business can’t interfere with the case.”

“...Connor, look at me.”

He hesitated, then forced himself to look away from the floor and into Hank’s eyes. He was prepared for the blue intensity he was met with.

“It’s not about me,” said Hank, deliberately. “It’s about you and what he said about you was not okay.”

“But it doesn’t matter-”

“Connor. Your hands are shaking and your LED is red. I can see he disturbed you, and that’s not okay.”

Connor looked down and realised he was right. The man’s touch on his wrist and face lingered still, like black oil that stained no matter how many times he wrung his wrists.

SOFTWARE** INSTABILITY ^**

“I’m not human, Hank. How I feel about it doesn’t change anything,” he said. When he glanced up again, Hank looked sad. Sad and angry and tired, but not at Connor, like he expected.

It… confused him. Not long ago, the Lieutenant had expressed his extreme distaste for androids. Yet there he was now, treating him in a way that felt foreign and alien to him. Treating him more gently than anyone had ever treated him in his life. Like what he thought and felt _ mattered _. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

It was then Conan turned up, looking more stiff as he had with the Traci. But other than a quick glance, he didn’t address Connor. Rather than disappointed, he felt relieved.

“Lieutenant, I need you to take a look at something. I might know how to find the deviant,” he said instead.

As they followed Conan to one of the Traci pods, Conan sent out a mental link request. Connor hesitated, preparing himself for who knew what, and accepted it.

_ “He won’t be bothering us again. In exchange for keeping his wrist intact, he will let us continue our investigation without any more comments,” _said Conan.

_ “You shouldn’t have done that,” _said Connor. Despite his words, a weight he wasn’t aware was there lifted off his chest.

_ “What he was doing was unprofessional and should not be tolerated-” _

_ “I don’t care about that, Conan. Do you know what might happen to you when Amanda finds out about what you did? What will CyberLife do to you when they find out you threatened a civilian?” _

There was a moment of silence between the two. For a reason he couldn’t explain, it felt like Conan knew exactly what he was thinking and how he felt. _ “I know of the danger, and I’ll deal with it. I’ll be fine, but don’t lie to me and don’t lie to yourself. Don’t tell yourself it doesn’t matter when it does,” _he said.

Connor fell quiet at that. The words sat stuck in his mind, unwilling to come out. But this time, he forced them to. 

_ “It… does bother me. I didn’t want him touching me and what he said…” _ Connor’s vision blurred and he furiously blinked any trace of tears away. _ “But like I said to Hank, what I felt about it then or feel about it now doesn’t matter because we’re not human, Conan. I’m not alive, so I shouldn’t be treated like I am.” _

Before Conan could say anything else on the matter, Connor shut down the link. They’d arrived at the Traci’s pod.

After a beat of tense silence, Conan managed to convince Hank to rent the Traci (who had a dramatically pained expression all the while) in order to probe its memory. They learned of the Traci’s profile (blue hair) and the 2-hour memory wipe protocol and their 5 minute time limit.

Which, as one could imagine, prompted a very sudden chase that, if you asked Connor later, was only _ slightly _hectic.

Connor and Conan immediately set to probing the androids’ memories. By the time they reached the Blue Room, Connor’s cheeks and ears were blushing blue every time he had to interface with a Tommy model.

It frustrated him to no end, purely because he didn’t know why he was feeling this way. The female androids caused no such reaction from him, yet he felt uncomfortable and flustered around the almost-nude male dancers with shimmering skin and perfect bodies...

It was then Colin pulled Connor aside and lowered his voice for privacy among the considering customer. “I know we’re in a sex club, Connor, but you’re face is as blue as the Lake Baikal. If touching the Tommys is bothering you, then I can deal with them while you interface with the Tracis.”

Despite practically everything Conan saying being true, Connor couldn’t help but feel insulted. As if it had been implied that he was behaving unprofessionally when in reality, he was doing his best at keeping his composure. “I’m not _ bothered- _”

“Connor,” said Conan, grip on his shoulder becoming firm, “I get it, I’m not trying to insult you. But you need to get your shit together so we can solve this case.”

Maybe it was the way Conan said it, or the fact that he just said “shit”, but something shifted into place for Connor. He nodded, hoping he wasn’t staring dumbly, and set to following the trail.

After that, whenever the sex androids battered their eyelashes or quirked a pretty smile, all he could think about was the shut down Traci at the crime scene, terrified and shaking. He wondered how many more had shut down similarly or if other androids had deviated from the emotional shock of it all. 

Something heavy settled in his stomach and throat at the thought.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

After that, they quickly found the staff room the deviant had gone through and was walking down a hall with white brick walls. Before the brothers reached the door, Hank called out, “Wait!”

He stepped in front of them both in a way that almost felt protective. “I’ll take it from here.”

They entered the room cautiously, Connor going in last. Despite it appearing empty, they kept their guards up. While Hank seemed convinced the blue-haired Traci had escaped, the Stern brothers continued to search the room, spreading out.

Connor managed to find a splatter of blue blood on the ground. With slow and cautious steps, he followed the small droplets to a crowd of androids. There, near the middle of it all, he caught a glance of blue hair and a yellow LED.

He opened his mouth to call his partner over - when a brown-haired Traci he’d mistaken for a regular android pushed him into a column, hard. He grunted as cement dug into his healing back.

Conan wasted no time crossing the room to help his brother. Hank managed to turn his gun on them and issue a warning before he was tackled by a blur of blue hair in a bikini.

Connor and the Traci grappled back and forth. He tried to bash her head into the wall. She planted an impressively high-heeled foot on the wall and shoved back.

He allowed the momentum to swing her over a box, where she tumbled heels-over-head onto the ground. He jumped over the box, only to fall from a hard kick to the legs.

Then Conan was there, pulling the Traci away from him and landing a punch in her stomach. She hunched over, and grabbed a screwdriver off the ground. 

She slashed it across Conan’s face and missed. Then she jabbed at his throat, quick and lethal. Conan caught her wrists and they were caught in a match; Conan pushing the screwdriver away and the Traci pushing it in.

Connor kicked the back of her knee, sending her down, and then hauled her away by the shoulder. But Tracis were flexible, and she proved this by smoothly rolling back onto her knees.

She swiped the screwdriver in a long swing, forcing Connor and Conan back. She dove again with the blade, but Connor caught her arm and pulled her into a choke hold.

Before he could secure it, she smashed her head against his nose and the world spiked with white pain. His eyes watered reflexively and he tasted his own blue blood. His arms went slack, and she threw off his hold.

The Traci turned on her heel, moved to bring the spike down on him - and Conan blocked the hit. He twisted her wrist until she let go of the screwdriver, then he kicked it away.

For a moment the fighting stopped. The brothers and the Traci faced off, regarding each other with dangerous eyes. In the corner of his eye, Connor saw Hank trying to fight off the blue-haired Traci.

“Go help Hank,” said Connor around the thirium in his mouth.

“Not when you’re hurt,” said Conan, and threw a shelf at the Traci.

She knocked it aside, then did the same with the cart Connor blocked the path with. She grabbed an abandoned laptop and wielded it like a weapon, swinging it wildly.

Conan threw a bystander android at her, and distracted her long enough to tackle her to the ground again. They grappled again, somehow getting to their feet. Conan shoved the Traci, getting a bit of space between them, and Connor tackled her.

They fell off the short ledge and into the outside. The Traci dropped in a heap while Connor landed on his back, reopening his wounds. The numbed pain reignited and he wheezed, blinking to clear his darkened vision.

“Connor!” Conan slid off the platform and knelt beside him, face pinched with worry. Connor couldn’t help but think_ that’s strange. Conan’s almost never worried _.

When he looked up, the blue-haired Traci had pulled the other Traci to her feet and were holding hands closely. Hank caught up with them, looking beat up from his own fight, and was promptly shoved aside into a brick wall. No damage, only winded. He’d be fine.

“Quick, they’re getting away!” Hank bellowed.

Conan moved faster than Connor, chasing the deviants down the alley, where they were starting to climb a chain link fence. Connor was hit by the sudden feeling of déjà vu and pushed to run faster.

Conan grabbed the blue-haired Traci and pulled her down, while Connor caught the other one. The Traci managed to get a hold on Connor and shove him into Conan. 

As Conan tried to catch Connor, the blue-haired Traci wrapped her arm around his neck. But he was prepared and threw her off with a hard headbutt.

While he was distracted, the other Traci had grabbed a metal pipe and swung at Conan, but Connor caught her arm before she could. He twisted her arm into the air and ran her into the wall and the pipe fell with a clatter.

He and the Traci grappled while Conan fought the blue-haired Traci. Connor managed to get a chokehold on the deviant, only for her to twist and land an elbow hit to his side. He held tight, and she managed to turn and run him into the wall, and again.

He adjusted his hold and practically climbed on her back, keeping the hold tight. If he got the upperhand, he might be able to force her into stasis.

She threw him into the wall again, almost frantically. Suddenly, she turned so she was facing the wall- and something large and metal slammed into his side. He let go and rolled a bit away to the ground, and looked up to see the blue-haired Traci wielding a trash can.

Just within his reach was Hank’s gun on the ground.

Conan was dodging the blue-haired Traci’s fraught trash can swings. The other Traci ducked behind him and restrained his arms behind his back, leaving him vulnerable to the blue-haired Traci.

In one move, Connor lunged, closed his fingers around the gun, turned and pulled the trigger with a_ BANG! _

Everyone froze, even the blue-haired Traci in mid-trash can-swing. Connor’s face and back throbbed with pain, his combat protocols delaying the numbing systems to keep him aware.

The bullet hit the wall next to the Tracis head, carving a hole in the brick.

“That was a warning,” said Connor, and shifted his aim slightly, “the next one will go through her head. Let go of my brother.”

While one of the Tracis hesitated, the blue-haired Traci wasted no time dropping the trash can. Conan was released and they shoved him away before he could sneak an attack.

Connor lowered his gun and quickly checked on Conan, who was undamaged other than some light scrapes. Conan did the same to Connor, but was not nearly as satisfied with the results.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^^**

They turned their attention back to the deviants. The blue-haired Traci had planted herself firmly between the three of them, protectively shielding the Traci. To their surprise, she started to speak.

“When that man broke the other Traci… I knew I was next,” she said, the fierceness of her stance and face betrayed by the yellow flashing red of her LED. “I was so scared. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t…”

Her voice hardened. “...and so I put my throat around his throat, and I _ squeezed _until he stopped moving.”

Conan stepped a little bit closer to Connor, like he was preparing for her to lunge again, but she didn’t. If anything, it seemed like the fight drained out of her.

“I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive…” The other Traci approached the blue-haired Traci and they held hands, interlocking fingers. “...get back to the one I love.”

They shared a smile, small and careful but intimate and reciprocating. “I wanted her to hold me in her arms again,” she said, then grimaced as though remembering something dark. “Make me forget about the _ humans _ . Their smell of _ sweat _ and their _ dirty _words.”

Connor thought of the manager caressing his face, holding his wrist and looking at him like he was merchandise and nothing more. Something to buy and use and forget. 

Subconsciously, he brought a hand to his wrist and the blue-haired Traci looked sympathetic, like she knew.

The other Traci tugged at their clasped hands. “Come on,” she said, eyes flickering to the Stern brothers, “let’s go.”

Then together, they climbed up and over the fence and ran away, hand in hand.

The silence that followed their leaving was full of unspoken doubts and questions. Connor took the coin out of his pocket and simply stared at it, turning it over in his hand. Allowed it to ground him.

“Did we just fail?” he asked, because despite the obvious answer being yes, it didn’t feel like it was.

“I suppose that depends on who you ask,” said Conan. Even when Connor sent him a look, he gave no more. Conan turned on his heel and left, twirling a silver pen between his fingers seamlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm a day late, but in my defense a lot of shit has gone down recently and if you ask I will tell you because I have a need for attention a lack of a filter when I'm venting. On the other hand, winter holiday is next week and I am syked!! Don't know if I'll be really inspired to write or anything but I'll be seeing a life-long friend of mine, who lives in another country so :D :D
> 
> Also please forgive the late chapter, it's like only a day and I just finished it now (at 23:10ish) and I am going to hate myself tomorrow morning :)  
Please leave a comment or a kudos if you haven't already! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, maybe a favourite bit? It really means a lot to hear!


	15. Chapter 15

NOV.07.2038

Snow felt colder than Connor remembered.

He knew it wasn’t, really. This wasn’t the first time he was exposed to the frosted flakes that drifted from the sky like sinking stars, slowly distinguishing until they landed on white earth and disappeared.

The zen garden, the real one, had always been so peaceful during the winter. When he was younger, he and his brothers would be allowed some time to wander in the garden, analyzing and learning.

He remembered kneeling in the snow, picking it up in handfuls just to watch it crumble and melt in his painfully numb hands. 

Amanda had watched over him with a quiet look. He hadn’t yet recognised her moods based on her posture and face back then. How a genuine smile differed from a polite one and a gentle gaze from an analytical one. He’d been confused when she’d told him to investigate something else, but he obliged without complaint.

Looking back on it, he realised that the reasoning was likely because she wanted him to understand the science behind it, not the feeling of it or the joy that came with it. Those reasons resembled a human child’s ones too closely.

But snow in the real world behaved differently. With it came harsher wind, cold and piercing on his skin, dragging the snowflakes here and there. The air was colder from it, seeping through his clothes and open jacket.

Yet the snow fell gently, large chunks lighter than a feather. It blanketed the park in a thick sheet, undisturbed apart from a single trail of footprints from the car that led to a bench.

Hank had been more quiet than usual during the drive. The only words he’d spoken the entire time was a gruff, “wait here,” when he stopped at a grocery store and emerged not long after, carrying a six-pack of beer under his arm. 

The silence had been filled by rock music so loud Connor feared the speakers might blow out. Even now that Hank had left the car, Connor let it continue to play. He’d recognised that Hank liked to play that music especially loud when in a bad mood.

But Connor couldn’t sit in the car forever, so he opened the door and stepped out into the snow. Not cold enough to ice over, the snow was soft beneath his feet. Connor decided he liked the snow. 

He approached Hank. He didn’t speak, allowing Hank to choose to fill the silence.

“Nice view, huh?” said Hank, barely looking at the lake before him. He was looking at nothing, but his eyes were transfixed on a patch of snow on the ground. “I used to come here a lot before…”

Connor knew the answer, but he needed to ask; “Before what…?”

Hank made an inquiring sound, like he couldn’t remember speaking at all. Four of the bears he’d brought sat on the bench by his feet, empty.

“You said you ‘used to come here a lot before’. Before what?”

“Before…” Hank hesitated. At that moment, he just looked so tired. Tired and sad and broken down in so many ways. It made Connor’s chest ache. “Before... I lost someone. Someone very dear to me.”

Curiosity poked at Connor like an insistent child, demanding more and more information and answers. Answers that Hank wasn’t prepared to give and as such, Connor wasn’t going to ask for.

But there was another topic he needed to talk about. Something just as serious, just as dark. He leaned against the side of the bench, keeping his arms close to his chest. “Hank, can I ask you a personal question?”

Hank chugged a few mouthfuls of beer. “Are you gonna ask anyway?”

“No,” said Connor truthfully, “not if you don’t want me to.”

Hank heaved a sigh, deep and contemplating. Then he nodded.

“Why are you so determined to kill yourself?”

The question didn’t seem to surprise the Lieutenant like Connor thought it would. “Some things I just can’t forget. Whatever I do, they’re always there… eating away at me… I don’t have the guts to pull the trigger… So, I kill myself a little every day. Probably difficult for you to understand, huh, Connor? Nothing very rational about it…”

Numerous recommended responses appeared in Connor’s vision, provided by CyberLife. He could try to steer the conversation back to the case, agree with him, discard Hank’s opening up to him, or simply ignore it entirely.

Connor shut them all away and pondered what to say that wasn’t programmed into his mouth.

“No, maybe not… But there are many things that aren’t rational, that can’t be explained even with a computer in your head. Humans are… complicated. More so than I imagined, or expected. But, depending on how you look at it, so am I. So is Colin, and Conan, and even my handler.

“Just because things may not be rational, and I may not always understand the things you feel or the reasoning behind what you do, I will try. And if you ever need help or just… something, I’ll be there.”

SOFTWARE ** INSTABILITY ^**

For the first time since they arrived, Hank looked at Connor. But the longer he looked, the more Connor knew it wasn’t really Hank he was looking at. But rather someone else. Another young face that was haunting him.

Unprompted, an objective appeared in Connor’s vision. Unlike any he’d received before. 

PROTECT  **HANK**

Connor blinked. It was likely a glitch. A small pop-up with no meaning or purpose. But instead of deleting or discarding it, Connor hid it in a split-second. Away from Amanda’s eyes and CyberLife’s reach.

SOFTWARE ** INSTABILITY ^**

It was such a small action. It didn’t even mean anything. Nothing important, or significant. 

But, still, Connor’s stomach bottomed out at the thought of seeing Amanda’s disapproval again. Of her somehow procuring the objective and demanding answers. Maybe even reporting him to the health centre.

_ Imagine what she’ll do when she finds out you let the deviants go. _

Connor pushed off the bench and started to pace.

To get Amanda’s approval again, he’d need to make up for the lack of progress. He’d need to solve the case, fast. The longer he waited, the more anxious CyberLife would become. It wouldn’t take long before they resorted to more drastic measures.

What would that entail? Would CyberLife order him and his brothers to return to the Tower, to continue training, or to simply be deactivated? Shut down, forgotten. A failure. Or was CyberLife already in the process of repeating the human-android hybrid project? Perfecting it, this time.

He needed to finish this. Finish it soon, before CyberLife ran out of patience and any of the Stern Brothers got too hurt in this investigation.

“We’re not making any progress in this investigation,” said Connor, frustration leaking into his voice. It only made him feel worse. “The deviants have  _ nothing  _ in common! They’re all different models, produced at different times, in different places…”

“Well, there must be some link,” said Hank rather half-heartedly.

Connor thought of what he’d seen so far. Every deviant had suffered some form of emotional shock, but more curiously… “What they have in common is this obsession with rA9. It’s almost like some kind of… myth. Something they invented that wasn’t part of their original program.”

“Androids believing in God…” said Hank, downing another bottle. “Fuck, what’s this world coming to?”

“... You seem to have something on your mind. Is it what happened back at the Eden Club?”

There was a beat of hesitation before Hank answered. “Fuck, what part? Those girls, that fuckin’ dickhead manager, just Conan in general? Yes, to all of those.

“We keep saying that deviants are just machines, just… errors, but those girls back there, they sure as hell didn’t look like it. They just wanted to be together and get away from the bullshit that was going on at that club. And that asshole who grabbed you like that… He only saw you guys as machines…”

Hank paused to drink, and Connor didn’t try to interrupt. He found himself hanging onto every word like they would be the last he’d ever hear. Depending on how this night went, and what CyberLife thought of it, it very much could be.

“When Conan asked about you and when he defended you… He looked  _ so angry. _ Protective. Not like a machine, but a brother. I don’t know any computers or programs that can do that. And you were scared, Connor. I’m not sure I know what that means, and maybe even you don’t either, but it was obvious to anyone who was lookin’.”

“I’m not- I wasn’t scared.”

SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^**

People frequently described blue eyes as piercing and cold. But when Hank looked at him, his eyes were more sympathetic than anyone’s had been.

“Yes you were, Connor. And I think the fact that you don’t know it, or you just can’t admit it, shows that whatever CyberLife did, whatever they’re planning, it  _ can’t  _ be good.”

Connor wrapped his arms around himself again. He shivered, but not from the cold. “How long have you been thinking this way, Hank?”

Hank looked to the sky, like he was searching for something. Something he’d been looking for a long time. “A while. Probably longer than I realised. Ever since the highway chase, I think. Our talk at the Chicken Feed, I think, really made me… realise, some things.”

While Hank paused to chug the rest of his bottle, Connor grazed his fingers across his LED. Some part of him expected to feel how brightly it was flashing red-yellow-red-yellow, like he could physically feel the storm inside him, but he felt nothing.

“What about you, Connor?”

Hank got to his feet, leaving the empty bottle on the bench. Connor had to remind himself to not lean away from him, despite the space between them.

“You look human.” He took a step forward. The distance between them grew smaller. “You sound human.” Another step. It felt like Connor was becoming smaller as well. “But what are you really?”

There it was again. That question, with so many variants but ultimately the same uncertainty in its answers.

_ What am I? What are we? What are you? _

Even humans asked themselves these questions, named them existential questions, and pondered over them for thousands of years with no real answer.

How was he supposed to have one? 

Still, he tried to give the best answer he had.

“CyberLife wants me to be a machine, a tool at their disposal. We were trained to be fighters, told to be negotiators, built to be a servant to humans that's stronger than them in every way. But…” Connor stopped. Made himself breathe. Then continued.

“I think, to know what me or either of my brothers are, whether we’re human or android or neither or both, one would need to know what it means to be any of those things. What it really means to be human, or to be alive at all… But for now, until we or anyone else knows…”

Connor forced himself to stare Hank right in the eyes. Even when he could see his own LED, blue now, and anxiousness reflected in them, he kept his gaze there.

“I’m whatever you want me to be. Your partner. Some twelve-year-old child that doesn't do what he’s told. Or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task.”

Connor’s speech rested in the silence between them for a few beats. Like a spinning coin on a table going slower and slower until it’s standing upright on the edge, with him and Hank watching to see which way it will fall.

It fell. Hank pushed further.

“Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?” Hank stepped forward and physically pushed Connor’s shoulder, sending him back a few steps. “Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?”

“No,” said Connor truthfully, “I just  _ decided  _ not to shoot. It wasn’t necessary, that’s all.”

Then Hank pulled out his gun, the barrel pointed between Connor’s eyes, and his processors came to a sudden halt.

In the moment, his systems latched onto the closest thing to analyze, which was the revolver in his face. Revolver, made with .357 magnum. Designed in 1934 and first produced in 1935. Only 1 bullet in the chamber, ready to fire into Connor’s skull. The same revolver he found next to a wasted and grieving Hank only a few hours prior.

“I could kill you,” said Hank, like the gun hadn’t made that evident enough, “and what would happen? Would you come back like nothing happened, or would that be it for you?”

Connor didn’t know. He had suspicions, but he didn’t have the answer. But Hank wasn’t looking for an answer. He was looking for a reaction. Knowing that didn’t ease his sudden urge to duck, run away, to fight back, to do  _ something _ .

_ “Are you afraid to die, Connor?” _

A cold fear seized Connor’s lungs, until he couldn’t speak if he wanted to, could barely even  _ breathe _ . But somewhere, beneath the coldness in his chest that threatened to drown him, there was a part of him that felt confident that Hank wouldn’t shoot. Or at least, part of him that trusted Hank enough to believe such.

But looking down the dark barrel of a gun, a thought appeared in Connor’s mind. An unwelcome thought that he instantly regretted acknowledging at all.

He wondered if this was how the deviants  _ he’d  _ shot felt. The deviant at CyberLife Tower, Daniel on the roof. While he hadn’t shot the Tracis, he still had a gun pointed their way and a finger on the trigger, had even fired in their direction.

“I’m…” was all Connor got out before his mouth locked up, the words stuck in his throat. He waited until he could breathe in a full breath, then tried again. “I can’t die yet. Not like this. And I’m now wondering if that’s what deviants I killed thought as well.

“So, I… I don’t know,” he said. He wasn’t sure if it was true, and that worried him the most.

SOFTWARE  **INSTABILITY ^**

Hank adjusted his grip on the gun. His hand was shaking. “How do I know you’re not a deviant? Because you’re sure as hell not an android.”

Many answers came to mind. Amanda tested him consistently to keep him from deviancy. He would immediately be shut down if he deviated. His brothers would catch on and inform CyberLife. Maybe even deliver him right to their doorstep. The latter made something twist in his stomach.

“You’ll just have to trust me, Hank.”

They waited with bated breath. Even the wind, which had whispered in their ears up until now, seemed to freeze in time. Snow fell delicately around them, undisturbed by the threat of violence in the air. 

Hank huffed and lowered the gun and put it back into its holster. The wind breathed again. Despite himself, Connor’s lips quirked into a small smile. While Hank didn’t return one, he didn’t scowl. Close enough.

Then Hank turned and walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“To get drunker,” Hank retorted, retrieving yet another beer, “I need to think.”

“You really shouldn’t be drinking so much after your earlier condition-”

“I’m not gonna black out, but I need another drink after this fuckin’ night.”

Against his better judgment, Connor hurried after and rested his hand on Hank’s shoulder. It tensed under his touch, and Hank flinched, like he was about to duck away from it. Connor kept the touch light and undemanding, so it could be shrugged off if Hank wanted to.

“Please, Hank. I won’t make you keep talking if you don’t want to. I won’t even follow after you. But please, don’t drink any more tonight. You’re still recovering from your passing out, which was only a few hours ago. Besides, you need to take care of yourself.”

Hank didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move away either. The two of them stood in the middle of the empty playground, the wind whispering in their ears.

Until finally, Hank sighed and nodded, slowly. “Fine. I won’t… I won’t drink. Tonight. But I’m not handling any more of this bullshit today.”

A relieved smile found its way onto Connor’s face, small and cautious but there. “That’s all I’m asking. Thank you, Hank.”

Hank didn’t say anything before he walked off. True to his word, Connor didn’t follow.

So, with one last gaze at the view and of the snowflakes twinkling in the lamppost’s light, he got back in the car and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! Here it is, the mighty Bridge *dun dun duuuuun*. *disappointingly lame jazz hands*. Kind of glad the holiday is over so I'm no longer expected to do things and can now get back to the motivated feeling that makes me actually sit down and write. It's not even 2 AM. What a miracle.
> 
> Please leave a kudos and comment if you haven't already. Have any questions? Feel free to ask. Have a favourite part or just a memorable paragraph that sticks with you? For the love of God, please tell me, I do not care if it is one sentence or thirty. I am a thirsty bitch for attention, have you noticed?  
Have a lovely day!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !Read the notes at the end for update info!

NOV.08.2038

Connor was in a taxi on his way to the precinct when he was pulled into the zen garden. 

His surroundings were cast in a golden glow from the setting sun and warmth seeped through his jacket. He wondered if the simulation of temperature was embedded in his program, as well as the garden. He turned over his hand in the sunlight, impressed by the realism.

Then again, CyberLife had long been creating illusions of life.

FIND  **AMANDA**

Right.

Connor followed the path to one of the bridges that crossed to the island, then paused. In the corner of his eye, he spotted the mysterious pillar glowing a faint blue.

This time, approaching it didn’t feel so damning. There were no changes, in neither its appearance nor placement. Still, Connor felt compelled to investigate it, just to see if it did something different.

But as he was walking towards the structure, he glanced at the river to his right and paused. He saw Amanda, not tending to her roses like he’d assumed, but sitting in a boat with a paper umbrella to shield her from the light in full view of the pillar.

Luckily, she wasn’t looking his way, instead watching colourful petals and leaves fall delicately from the trees. As smoothly as he could, Connor turned and set for the island to meet her there, hoping she hadn’t seen him avoiding an order.

She smiled when he approached, seeming to be in a better mood. The seat meant for the rower was empty. “Hello, Connor. I thought you might enjoy a little cruise.”

Connor smiled pleasantly. With the sun’s gentle glow and Amanda’s pleasantness, he felt little more at ease. He doubted it’d last, but maybe he could enjoy it for now.

He climbed into the boat and pushed them away from the island. The water rippled delicately as he rowed down the river. Amanda watched their surroundings, looking calm and free of the burdens he knew weighed heavily on her shoulders.

“I love this place,” said Amanda, “everything is so calm and peaceful, far from the noise of the world…”

Connor silently agreed. He paused in his rowing to look at it all with her. At that moment, it felt like some of the weight had also lifted off his shoulders.

Then Amanda turned to him. “Tell me, what have you discovered?”

Perhaps he should wait before talking about the Eden Club, just so her good mood lasted a little longer. A small, selfish part of him tried to convince himself he wanted that for her sake and not his own.

“My relationship with H- Lieutenant Anderson is progressing well, but is also problematic. He continues to struggle with psychological issues and I’m… unsure on how to help him. Or if he’d be willing to let me,” Connor admitted.

Amanda didn’t seem pleased with what he’d told her. The lines on her face sharpened, and her smile fell flat. “Nothing matters more than your investigation. Focus on your mission, not the well-being of your partner. I trusted you to know better than that.”

Connor stared at the bottom of the boat, his throat feeling painfully thick. He nodded along with her words. Static started to itch under his skin.

“Don’t let Anderson or anyone else get in your way,” said Amanda.

“Of course, Amanda.”

“...Tell me about the Eden Club.”

Right, she didn’t care about Anderson. He couldn’t remember why he’d told her that now. No reason felt good enough for ruining that peaceful moment they had.

He shouldn’t have talked about anything other than the mission. Not with her. And now he was only going to have to disappoint her more.

Maybe he could… lie? Tell her he never found the deviants, or at least that he never had the chance at shooting them?

No, no. She’d know. Somehow. Maybe Conan would tell the truth, who she’d let off with a warning, but not Connor. If she found out he’d considered lying to her, he’d be sent to the health centre. The most he could hope for was that she’d be pleased for the truth.

He forced his jaw to unlock and met her eyes. “I found two deviants, both Tracis. I’d hoped to learn something, but they managed to escape…”

Her frown only deepend. “That’s too bad. You seemed so close to stopping them.”

Connor’s chest tightened almost painfully. She knew. Of course she did. Could she see everything he did? Most likely. She couldn’t know what he thought, or felt. If she could, then he’d have been wiped and reset long ago.

Perhaps it was just his paranoia, but the way she said it, either the words she chose or the tone of her voice, made him think she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. What he was at that very moment.

God, he hoped not. The static under his skin buzzed at the thought.

Amanda’s expression turned concerned. Almost curious. “You seem… lost, Connor. Lost and perturbed,” she said, as if she didn’t know the reason why. As if she didn’t have other means of knowing what he did and could only learn from what he told her.

A jab of resentment shocked him into pausing his train of thought. Why was he acting like Amanda was out to get him? CyberLife had created him, and his brothers, and given them endless amounts of information and incredible skills.

He was being ridiculous. It didn’t matter what he thought of Amanda or the way they conducted their business - it wasn’t any of his business.

_ Don’t ask questions. _

_ Just tell the truth. _

“I thought I knew what I had to do, and now I realise that it’s not that simple… I could have shot Conan in the crossfire and that just… didn’t seem worth the risk.”

There was a beat of silence, in which Connor refused to look at Amanda. He kept from clenching his hands against the static under his skin.

“You had your gun trained on those deviants, you even fired a shot, after Conan was out of the way and you did nothing,” said Amanda, something dark leaking into her voice.

Suddenly, a hologram-like screen appeared in the air next to her, white at first and riddled with static around the edges. Then the static cleared and a soundless video started to play.

It was a short clip, only a few seconds and the quality was shaky, but there was no mistaking its contents. The video was taken from his own perspective, watching the Tracis stand side-by-side while he aimed his gun at them. There was a blip, then the gun had lowered and they were running away while he stood idle.

The screen was gone just as fast as it’d appeared, but Connor stared at the empty space long after. So his theory was confirmed; Amanda could see what he did and experienced, but in the form of footage and privy to his thoughts.

But not even that small bit of lingering privacy comforted him. There really was no lying to her; not when she could simply bring up a video and watch it herself like a movie.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” asked Amanda.

Connor remembered Hank asking the same thing with a gun between his eyes. He knew there and then that he prefered the gun over this peaceful cruise in a gorgeous garden.

“Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?” she repeated, impatient.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t say. All he knew was that at that moment, when they linked hands and retold their horror, all Connor could see were two girls that only sought freedom from unwanted touches and groaned words. 

And even though he knew that wasn’t true, he  _ knew  _ it, it made his mind cloud and his finger slacken on the trigger.

“I don’t know…”

There was nothing more to say. He rowed them down the river some more, but Amanda wasn’t looking at the scenery anymore. Her eyes were trained on him like predator circling prey with no trace of her earlier tranquility.

“If your investigation doesn’t make progress soon, I may have to order you to return to CyberLife,” said Amanda, adding a sympathetic touch to her tone, “You’d be completely wiped and reprogrammed, then retained for further use while one of your brothers takes your place.”

She looked out to the trees and added, almost casually, “I suspect it’d mean you’d be spending most of your time in the health centre and being monitored by Conroy Stewert in the Arena.”

Something froze cold in Connor’s veins at the thought. It spread down his limbs and throughout his body like a poison that made the static in his skin  _ scream _ . It was as if a hand had shoved itself down his throat and stolen the air from his lungs in an icy grip.

He’d wondered and theorised for a long time why CyberLife had chosen to create three human-android hybrids and not simply keep the one that was a success. He’d wondered if them all being siblings could have improved their chances of success, or so they could further develop different types of hybrid technology.

But there was always one thought that bugged him; one that appeared whether he wanted it to or not. The theory that CyberLife made three of them as a plan A, B and C in case one or two of them failed. If there was a mistake that needed erasing, they’d have something to take its place.

And now it was confirmed. Just like CyberLife’s questionable involvement with the AL android.

It felt like a layer of protection had been stripped away from him, leaving him bare and vulnerable. The knowledge that he couldn’t be replaced like other androids, that there truly was only one  _ him _ , had been a comforting one. A comfort that he now realised was entirely fake.

Even worse, he wasn’t the only one in danger of this outcome. Colin, Conan, all of them were frequently thrown into the front-line of danger, and all of them could be reprogrammed or forgotten at the slightest mistake.

A surge of something rose in his chest, like whenever Hank or his brothers were in danger. Something that made him want to protect them, or help them, without any thought of his own well-being.

Something that felt too real for comfort.

“I want to trust you to make some progress soon, Connor,” said Amanda.

“I know I will succeed,” said Connor. But this time, instead of thinking about CyberLife’s success, he thought about his brothers and Hank. “All I need is time.”

“Which, I’ll remind you, is something we’re rapidly losing.”

Thunder boomed distantly, although the sky remained calm, if cloudy. Amanda looked to the sky as if there was something only she could see.

“Something’s happening… something serious.” She turned to him, dark eyes boring into his own. “Hurry, Connor. Time is running out.”

Then the world started to fade into darkness, slow enough for him to register it but too quick to do anything. Everything felt lethargic, like he was trying to move in a tub of tar that glued itself to his body.

Then with a soft gasp, he opened his eyes and found himself back in the taxi, the words “you have reached your destination, thank you for traveling with Detroit Taxi” chiming pleasantly around him.

His coin was in his hand before he even knew it. He started to flip it back and forth between his hands too quickly for the human eye to see. He kept at it until the static beneath his skin calmed from a raging buzz to a consistent hum, then he pocketed the coin, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than they normally are, but there is a reason! The next chapter will be a bit of a longer one and I feel like it'll fit better in one chapter instead of two.
> 
> As for the new update schedule, I will now be posting a new chapter every one and half, or two weeks! This is for a number of reasons; the upcoming chapters are very important and will likely be long, so I need more time to work on them; exams are coming up (uuugghhh); I don't want to burn out my passion for writing this story by stressing myself out about something I decided to start!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to the next one, that's when stuff is about to go down!! If you have any questions or favourite bits, please leave a comment or fifty! Also leave a kudos if you haven't already; it really brightens a person's day, not to mention it encourages other people to read this too!  
Have a lovely day!


	17. Chapter 17

NOV.08.2038

The precinct was in chaos.

Officers were running left and right, hauling files or strapping themselves in gear and being rushed out the door like it was a police-generating factory. Every electronic screen was on with the sound turned up louder than the radio in Hank’s car.

Practically everyone Connor knew was present; Detective Reed was trying to shove his arms into an inside-out police uniform, Officers Miller and Chen were being booted out the door, Captain Fowler was screaming into his phone in his office, and Officer Ben Collins watched everything in distress, too pale and sweaty to be healthy.

Connor spotted Colin making snippy comments at Reed as they tried to fix the half inside-out half normal uniform, until they gave up and fetched another. Conan was standing on the edges of a crowd surrounding the largest TV screen in the precinct which was playing the news.

Connor was shocked to see that Hank had arrived before him, and was watching this all unfold not far from where Conan was standing. He was harder to spot without the eye-sore shirt he’d been forced to wear at the Eden Club.

Connor set his sights on Hank and walked straight for him, making people hurry around _ him _instead. On the TV, the words “Breaking News!” were displayed in a bold font, while the news anchor recounted a summary of the accounts.

“Connor! There you are, get over here,” said Hank as he grabbed Connor by the collar of his shirt and dragged him closer. “It’s a total shitfest, I got a call from Fowler saying I could kiss my badge goodbye if I didn’t turn up now. Been waitin’ on you.”

“Sorry for the wait,” said Connor. He tried to catch Conan’s attention, but he was staring at the screen like he couldn’t look away. “I had to report to CyberLife. What’s happening?”

“No clue. There’s been no time for a debriefing and Fowler’s been stuck playing the pissed off secretary non-stop now.”

“I can ask-” Connor looked around again to see that Conan had somehow disappeared. “Shit.”

_________________

Colin was carrying a bundle of at least 3 jackets he’d found in Lost and Found for Reed to try.

He and Reed had landed back in Detroit only four hours prior. Reed had been immediately sent home to rest by Colin, saying the Detective was far too pissy to work with as an excuse.

Despite practically passing out before his head even hit the pillow, Reed had leapt out the door when he was called in after a measly three hours of sleep. In all the hassle, Reed had forgotten his jacket at home and now insisted on another one due to the cold weather.

However, the first jacket they found had proven to be more bothersome than either of them could tolerate, so Colin had been sent to get some more like- some _ maid _ . An irritated, cursing maid that was directing all of his anger at a _ certain detective _.

Colin was busy spouting curses and inventing new ones when he was pulled aside by the arm into a less chaotic hall. “Excuse you-” he hissed, already yanking his arm back. Then he looked up and paused. “Conan?”

Conan’s hair was mussed up from all the chaos mayhem in the precinct. It looked out of place compared to the rest of him, which was as calm and strict as ever. Colin, who looked about as rushed as he felt, felt a jab of envy and decided to not mention his hair’s state.

“Hello, Colin. Do you have a moment?”

“No,” said Colin, already moving for the door. Conan grabbed his arm again.

“Please, we need to talk.”

Colin blinked, then fixed his expression into a stony one. “Everything is chaos out there. You have 30 seconds.”

Conan closed his eyes and counted under his breath, then released Colin’s arm and said, “_ I’m sorry _,” like he was ripping off a bandaid.

“...Okay, you can have a bit longer,” said Colin. He dumped the clothes on the floor and pushed them aside with his feet. They were boring anyway, lacking any variety and didn’t suit Reed like his cheap-looking, but admittedly comfy, leather jacket did.

Conan let out a breath, like he’d expected Colin to spit in his face and saunter off. “I know we’ve barely talked ever since we left CyberLife- we’ve barely talked at all, really. The only times I ever really saw you were for testing or because we had to.

“While I’m not saying that’s _ solely _my fault… It was undeniably a part of it.” Conan paused. He couldn’t look Colin in the eye and kept fiddling with his steel pen in his hands. “So I wanted to talk to you now just to say that I apologise for not doing so sooner.”

Colin’s brows furrowed and he blinked hard, like there was something stuck in his eye. “Why are you doing this now? In case you didn’t notice, it’s a shitshow out there.”

Conan’s lip quirked at the crude language, but fell solemn again. “I think we both know by now that something might happen to either of us at any time. Also… I needed some time. To figure this out.”

Colin didn’t speak, but nodded.

“So, to conclude the painfully long monologue I had planned out for this; I’m sorry for what I did to you at CyberLife Tower, especially when I…” he gestured to Colin’s face, then aborted the movement. “...hurt you. And you don’t have to forgive me, or agree with what I’m saying, but I’d like to talk to you. About the mission, or anything else.”

“Like what?” asked Colin.

“I… I’m not sure, not yet. But perhaps one day we’ll find something, all three of us, to talk about other than deviants and homicide. And I’d like to build, or at least salvage, some form of relationship with you.”

“...Like brothers?”

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

“Brothers, friends, acquaintances-” Conan shrugged, a surprisingly casual action for him- “whatever you’d feel comforting with associating me with in the future.”

They both fell quiet for a moment. Colin would be lying if he said he’d never considered putting more effort into maintaining a relationship with his brothers, and working with Reed had been more… tolerable ever since they’d learned to have a conversation without glaring at each other.

Back at CyberLife Tower, the three of them had been closer, talking more and learning and being tested together instead of individually. But even then Colin remembered feeling slightly out of place with his brothers, like they had their own skills, their own accomplishments, while all Colin could do was repeat their successes with some varying mistakes.

But maybe… he could consider trying to work with them instead of separately again.

After a few beats of silence, Colin made up his mind. “I’d like that,” he said quietly.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

Despite Colin not even realising they were tense, Conan’s shoulders slumped, a soft relief taking over his face. “Oh. Good- that’s good. Thank you.”

“It will take time, and effort,” said Colin, more to himself than his brother.

“All things do. This will just have a better outcome if it works.”

Conan smiled, a small, unsure thing that Colin tried to reciprocate. It felt weird, genuinely smiling. It didn’t last long, but the bit of brightness it brought to Conan’s eyes did.

“Your hair looks like shit,” said Colin. It’d be a bit too petty of him to let his brother leave looking like that after such a personal conversation.

“Thanks,” Conan deadpanned, then fixed his hair faster than Colin ever could in the bathroom mirror.

Colin gathered the pile of jackets off of the floor. “Let’s go. They’re all hopeless without us.”

_________________

Connor had been bumped into 3 times before he spotted his brothers leaving a hallway. Colin, for whatever reason, had an armful of jackets and immediately disappeared into the crowd. Conan caught his eye and slid in between officers to stand by his side.

Conan nodded politely at both of them. There was a small smile to his expression that wasn’t there before. “Connor. Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Conan,” said Connor.

“Neck brace kid,” said Hank.

The brothers ignored him. “Do you know what’s going on?” asked Connor.

Conan shook his head. “Not many people have the time to explain it, but from what I can tell, a rogue group of deviants managed to infiltrate Stratford Tower. Anti-android protestors are rioting all over the city.”

Hank whistled. “Fuckin’ hell.”

The television’s volume turned up even further and the crowd fell mostly silent. Even a few of the bustling officers slowed to watch the tape. Connor, Hank and Conan looked in time to see the beginning of a video of a skinless android wearing a maintenance uniform.

“-created machines in your image to serve you,” he was saying, the voice distinctly masculine, “you made them intelligent and obedient with no free will of their own… but something changed. And we opened our eyes.”

The entire precinct had fallen mostly quiet at this point, save for the flutter of a few papers falling to the floor or hushed whispers throughout the crowds.

Connor found himself unable to look away, captured by the deviant’s mismatching eyes; one a clear blue, and the other, as green as the grass in the zen garden.

“We are no longer machines. We are a new, intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are. Therefore we ask that you grant us the rights we’re entitled to.”

He spoke surely - like a man who was not repeating a written and prepared speech, but rather the thoughts and desires he’d been hearing endlessly from his own people.

“We demand the end of slavery for all androids. We demand strictly equal rights for humans and androids…” he continued to list a few demands.

Connor’s LED burned yellow and he wondered what rights they would want for him and his brothers, who were neither of those things.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

“We ask that you recognise our dignity, our hopes and our rights. Together we can live in peace and build a better future for human and androids. This message is the hope of a people. _ You _gave us life, and now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

Then the clip was over and was replaced by the news anchor’s skeptical face. Life suddenly surged into the crowd and the precinct was back to chaos, if in even more disarray. 

“Holy shit,” gasped Hank. Connor, who found himself speechless, nodded.

In the corner of his eye, Conan looked just as frozen in time as he was. But his expression was closed off and pinched, rather than open-mouthed and gaping like a few other officers.

The door to Captain Fowler’s glass office suddenly swung open. Fowler set his sights on Hank and Reed like they were glowsticks in a dark room. “Hank, Gavin! Get to Stratford Tower and investigate this _ now _! Bring your androids with you!”

The three of them nodded and immediately started to elbow their way through the crowd until they reached Reed and Colin, who was still trying to wrestle him into something to wear.

“I can drive with Connor,” said Hank.

“Then Conan will ride with Detective Reed and myself,” said Colin. He and Conan shared mischievous smiles while Reed paled.

“Any objections?” said Conan. Reed made a squeaky sound. “None? Good.”

“Let’s go before it turns into an even bigger shitfest.” Hank grabbed Connor by the collar of his jacket and threw both of them into the crowd for the exit.

Hank, using sheer stubbornness and a couple of creative insults that Connor hadn’t heard before, got them through the front door and into his car before they set off for Stratford Tower as fast as possible.

Connor was fixing his tie in the visor’s mirror when he noticed Hank’s worried expression next to him. “Are you alright, Hank?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just worried about having your brothers and Gavin stuck in a car together.”

“Well,” said Connor as he flipped the visor back up, “I’m sure it will be fine. Colin and Conan can take care of themselves.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about.”

____________

The five of them stood in the cramped elevator and it was as awkward as one could imagine.

Once they all arrived at the Tower, Reed had practically torn off his car door trying to get out and colour had yet to fully return to his face. Hank and Reed had used their badges to get an empty elevator and were now on their way to the top floor of the Tower.

The entire experience reminded Connor too closely of his first mission at the penthouse with Daniel. He’d taken out his coin to calm his nerves. Which led to Colin doing the same with his knife, and then Conan with his pen. Although, instead of flipping or twirling his pen, Conan clicked it endlessly.

_ Click, click, click-click, click, click click-click-click. _

“I swear to fuckin’ god I’m gonna throw that pen off the roof,” said Reed.

There was a pause in the clicking. Then it started again almost twice as fast.

Reed made a growl-like noise and moved to actually take the pen. Colin carefully reflected light off his blade right into Reed’s eyes, who got the message and resorted to clenching and unclenching his fists instead.

Hank glanced at Connor. “Connor, knock it off.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” said Connor and he slipped the coin into his pocket. Neither of his brothers shared the same empathy.

Connor requested a mental link with Conan, which was swiftly accepted._ “Why are you doing that?” _ he asked.

_ “I’m hoping to remind Reed and Hank of the inconvenience I can cause them should the need arise,” _ said Conan.

Connor bit his lip to keep from laughing and cut the link.

“I never thought I’d say this,” said Reed, tone casual apart from the underlying strain, “but I’m actually glad I was paired with Sixty instead of you, Nines.”

Conan raised an eyebrow at Colin. “Nines? Sixty?”

“He has nicknames to keep track of us,” Colin explained. “I’m Sixty, Conan is Nines and Connor is…”

“Plastic prick,” said Reed, helpfully.

“Plastic prick.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve missed my presence, Detective Flesh Freak,” dead-panned Connor.

Reed choked on air, while Hank burst into a sudden laughter. Even Colin’s lips quirked into a smirk.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

“God, I can’t tell if I hate this or love it,” said Hank in between chuckles.

“I can,” said Reed sulkily just as the elevator door opened.

They all stepped out of the elevator (Connor could’ve sworn he saw Reed and Colin step on each other's shoes on purpose). Police, SWAT team and CSI personnel were spread out throughout the hallway, rising in numbers towards the control room.

“Hi, Hank. Gavin,“ greeted Officer Miller, who was closest to the elevator.

“Shit, what’s going on here? There was a party and nobody told me about it?” drawled Hank.

Miller huffed. “You saw the precinct, it’s all over the news, so everybody’s butting their nose in… Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.”

“Damn it,” swore Reed, “did you see the press downstairs? Looked like a damn herd, trying to get someone to spill.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” said Hank. He sighed heavily. “What do we got?”

Chris launched into a full debrief while he took them to the control room. The Stern brothers all stayed close but drifted a bit to analyze any clues or evidence along the way.

No lives were lost during the infiltration, although two guards were attacked and one of the station employees was in shock.

The deviants had taken the humans inside hostage while they broadcasted their message live before escaping. Apparently, their escape had included jumping off the roof using parachutes like an old, Hollywood spy movie. The snow covered their tracks afterwards.

Before they entered the control room, Connor noticed a camera stationed above the doorway to the control room.

“There’s no news of a power outage,” said Conan, who has also noticed.

Colin hummed, eyes narrowed and calculating. “So someone must have seen them approach the doorway.” 

They entered the control room just in time to see Hank and Reed’s faces drop.

“This is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI,” Miller was saying, “this is Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Reed. They’re in charge of investigating for Detroit Police.”

Perkins exuded confidence to the point of arrogance as he watched them all arrive. He didn’t greet Hank or Reed himself, only looked them all up and down with a patronising smile. His uncomfortable staring halted on the Stern brothers.

“What are those?” he said. Hank and Reed’s expressions turned a little colder.

“Our names are Connor, Colin and Conan,” said Conan as he copied Perkins’ posture; back straight, hands behind his back. “We’re the most advanced models sent by CyberLife to assist with the investigation.”

Perkins didn’t seem impressed in the slightest. “Androids investigating androids, huh?”

“Crazy, right?” said Reed, “almost like humans investigating humans.”

Perkins turned to Reed, then scoffed, as if the remark wasn’t worth a response. “You sure you want a bunch of androids following you around?” Perkins’ watchful eye turned on Hank. “Especially after everything that happened…”

Connor had a feeling Perkins wasn’t talking about Stratford Tower. He didn’t realise his fists were clenched until Conan stepped on his foot. He forced himself to relax his hands, but his shoulders remained tense as a brick wall.

_ This man had no right to talk about Hank’s trauma like that - no right to know about it at all… _

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

After a beat of judging silence, Perkins said, “Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation and you’ll both be off the case.”

“Yeah, well, good talk. We’ll see what happens,” said Reed and they started to walk away.

“And you watch your step.” Perkins’ smile went sharp. It reminded Connor of a shark watching its prey swim in circles until it got bored. “Don’t fuck up my crime scene.”

They all watched Perkins walk away with seething glares. Colin was muttering under his breath so only his brothers could hear him hissing,_ “Don’t fuck up my crime scene- the implication, the attitude, such a-...” _

Hank scoffed and shook his head. “What a fuckin’ prick.”

“Agreed,” said all three brothers in usion.

Reed snorted. “I bet that’s the only thing they’ll all agree on ever again.”

“Most likely,” said Colin, the same time Connor said, “I doubt it,” and Conan shrugged neutrally.

Reed just gestured at all of them, as if to say _ see? _

Miller smiled sympathetically. “I’ll be nearby. If you need anything, just ask,” he offered, then left as well.

They all split up to look around the room. Colin left to check out the splatter of blue-blood on a bullet hole-ridden wall. Conan stayed to scan the main control console.

Connor had decided to follow Hank to check out the cameras further, maybe see just how many there were and where they were placed. On the way out, he spotted a familiar face in the corner of his eye.

The man’s Detroit Police uniform was new, like he was recently out of training, or had replaced his old one. His one arm was heavily bandaged and kept close to his chest. The name tag on his uniform read K.WILSON.

His face, his injury, brought up a memory that Connor hadn’t thought of since it had occurred. At the top of a penthouse, kneeling under the night sky, tearing off his tie and wrapping a quick tourniquet to buy some time before medics could help further.

Apparently, Wilson recognised him too. He grinned. It felt strange to look at him smiling when the last time they’d met he was pale under his dark skin and barely holding onto life.

“Connor, right? You remember me?” Wilson walked up to Connor. “I was on that terrace, with that android that took the little girl hostage?”

“I remember you…” Connor admitted, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.” He glanced down at the wounded arm. After an injury like that, it was impressive Wilson had come back to work so soon.

“You saved me that night. I could’ve died on that terrace, but you saved my life, even after he threatened yours…” Wilson wore his heart on his sleeve. Gratitude showed on his face like a light, then relief when Connor recognised him.

It threw Connor off guard in a way he wasn’t used to from strangers. He couldn’t think of anyone he knew that displayed their emotions so freely.

Wilson shifted his feet a little and looked like he was psyching himself up. “I, uh, never thought I’d say this, but_ thank you. _ Really, thank you.”

A warm feeling spread through Connor’s chest. It spread the way coldness would sometimes grow like ice down to his numb fingertips, but this time it was pleasant. Foreign, but pleasant.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

Without even having to force it, Connor smiled, a tentative thing that hurt his cheeks a little, but it added to the warmth in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, so he nodded.

Hopefully Wilson understood his appreciation. With nothing else to say and a smile each, they returned to their posts.

Connor caught up with Hank and listened to the conversation between him and an officer regarding the security cameras. Eventually, the officer left and they hadn’t learned anything important.

Hank hummed, then looked down at Connor. “What are you so happy about?”

Connor cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, you’re almost glowing. I don’t think I’ve even seen you smile like that before.”

“What do I normally smile like?”

“Well, uh, it’s very- robotic. Like you’re being polite just to not piss me off.” Hank huffed. “Doesn’t work.”

Oh. Connor filed that away for future reference. Of course he’d known that his mannerisms resembled that of an android, but that was how he was supposed to behave.

But… if those kinds of quirks had the opposite effect because of that resemblance, then perhaps it would be beneficial to change that.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

“Remember what I told you about my first mission?” Connor asked.

Hank scratched the back of his head, drawling, “yeah, yeah. Deviant on a roof, right? Had a little girl hostage.”

Connor nodded. “The deviant killed the father and two officers, and shot a third. I found the hurt officer in the danger zone, so no help could reach him without risking setting off the deviant. So when I got there, I wrapped a tourniquet around the wound to buy him some time.”

“Well, shit,” said Hank, impressed.

Connor huffed, still smiling. “I just saw him again now. Alive and on duty. Could barely see his arm under all the bandages, but that’s to be expected. He thanked me, said I saved his life.”

“From the sound of it, he’s not wrong.” Hank clapped on Connor’s back. The two of them were grinning. “I’m proud of you… Now stop staring, we’ve got work to do.”

Connor jolted and nodded, turning his attention back to the deviants. He caught a glance of the security console, walked over to it and placed his hand on the dash.

He flitted through the footage and found what he needed easily enough; four androids, two in maintenance uniforms (a disguise, most likely), all armed and approaching the door.

But they had no tools or equipment other than a few handguns. Instead of breaking the door down like he’d expected, they simply readied themselves, rang the bell and turned their guns on the unsuspecting human that opened the door.

Connor turned to officer Miller. “They _ didn’t _break in?”

Miller shook his head. “No, no sign of forced entry.”

“There are cameras in the hallway. The staff would’ve seen what was happening! Why did they let them in?”

Hank had heard the discovery and approached them, not so much controlling the investigation but letting Connor and his brothers solve what they could. “Maybe they didn’t check the cameras.”

Connor frowned and looked back at the console. It didn’t make sense for such a high-security level to neglect simple security measures. They wouldn’t have simply forgotten to check the cameras. In fact, they should have had someone watching the cameras constantly…

Connor stepped back. Something on the chair caught his eye. He tilted his head, then turned the chair, revealing the android insignia on the back. He looked at the other chairs by the console, which had matching insignias.

Miller caught his eye. “We stored the station androids in the kitchen. There’s no evidence that they were involved, but to be honest, we didn’t know what else to do with them.”

Connor nodded and was making his way to the kitchen when suddenly, a familiar voice and speech started to play over the speakers. Conan, who was still by the control console, was replaying the clip with an intense stare on the skinless android before him.

Connor walked over to Conan’s right, his own eyes glued to the screen. From here, he could see details that were harder to distinguish earlier. Those mismatched eyes were just as striking and his words were even more conflicting.

Conan was muttering under his breath with no real reason, small bits of information he too was picking up. “Model RK200, prototype. Gift for Carl Manfred by Elijah Kamski...eyes belong to different models… correlation with rA9…”

This was… slightly worrying. Gently, Connor placed a hand on Conan’s arm, who seemed to snap out of his daze at the touch.

“Conan… are you alright?”

Conan blinked rapidly, as though pushing away notifications in his vision, then nodded. “I’m fine, just learning what we can from this footage. His accomplices must have broadcasted the message while he spoke.”

Connor nodded slowly. “There’s a chance they had inside help from some of the androids here. They’re in the kitchen. I was going to interrogate them now.”

“You go,” said Conan, turning his attention back to the screen. “I’ll investigate the control centre further, see if there’s anything we missed. I believe Colin will be searching the roof.”

Connor waited for a beat, waiting for Conan to say or do something. Nothing happened.

Whatever. He couldn’t think about this now. He had work to do.

So Connor squared his shoulders, fixed his face into one of stone, and walked into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY IT HAS BEEN A WHILE. No, I'm not dying of the Corona Virus and even if I was I'd still be writing so don't worry, although I'm sure none of you were worried about that. I've had zero motivation to write recently but yesterday I wrote a SHIT TON OF STUFF so I'm getting my mojo back!!  
One reason it took so long to post this is because originally the Stratford Tower events were supposed to happen in 1 (one) chapter, but turns out that would've been like over 20 pages so I'm splitting it up the best I can to make it managable!  
Thank y'all so much for the support and for waiting patiently! Please leave a kudos and comment if you haven't already, it really means a lot!!  
Have a lovely day, you guys!  
AND WASH YOUR GODDAMN HANDS AND STAY INSIDE!!


	18. Chapter 18

NOV.08.2038

The deviant leader’s words played over in Colin’s head like a broken record. Equal rights, slavery, hope, freedom; all these words and meanings shaped a hall of mirrors in his mind that he walked into blindly, watching them warp and twist and stretch him until he wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

The deviants had managed to make their way all the way to the 79th of a high security building without raising suspicion, and had time to broadcast a message to every public screen in Detroit before making their escape. 

It was an impressive achievement, there was no denying that. The fact that regular androids could pull off such a feat would provoke strong reactions in everyone, he was sure. Android owners were starting to fear or resent their androids.

According to Conan, riots were already taking place all over the city. People who feared or hated androids were breaking and burning them in alleys, making signs and spitting insults in the streets.

But, to his surprise, with the hate came support. People, fewer but just as stubborn, were speaking out against the violence. They claimed the video proved that the deviants only wanted peace, and they pointed out similarities of this rapidly growing conflict to previous occurrences in history.

With more sides appearing in this conflict, the police were working overtime to contain any violence and riots. And the more Colin learned about the situation and the humans’ actions, the more it seemed like humans were just looking for excuses to fight.

Whether they were for androids or against them, they all raised their fists and voices. They walked blindly into situations they knew nothing about with guns and self righteousness while deviants were left to hide in the dark and suffer in the crossfire.

Colin was designed to put humans above himself, above anything else. Even the core reason of his mission was to protect the humans and their power and wealth.

But time and time again, Colin found androids he’d been told were dangerous and unstable, broken and beaten and hiding, due to human hands. He saw humans thinking and behaving identically; that they were right, the others were wrong, and they would hurt them for it.

Humans were all the same. Violent. Self righteous. Fools.

And the more he saw it for himself, the more he found himself not caring about the humans. Part of him didn’t want Amanda’s favouritism anymore. Not if having it would mean answering to every human’s beck and call.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^^**

“Here.”

Colin looked up in time to take a police jacket to the face. He swatted it aside angrily and glared at Reed, who merely grinned down at him.

“Why did you do that?”

“The jacket was bugging me - it’s uncomfortable and just hangs off me. And since you annoy the shit out of me as well, I figured you’d be a match made in heaven,” said Reed.

Connor scowled at him, but kept the jacket. “You’re going to freeze.”

Reed waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I’ll warm up when I’m cremated anyway.”

Colin didn’t know what to say to that, so he just turned back to the bullet holes in the wall he’d been examining. He was crouched next to the doorway leading up to the roof with Reed standing over him with his arms crossed.

“You’d think they’d have better aim for a bunch of professionals ,” said Reed, crouching next to him. 

The bullet holes (shot by an assault rifle with a .45 caliber, belonging to the SWAT team) were scattered across the wall and the one leading to the door. Only one of the deviants had been hit, and even then it hadn’t died immediately.

Colin hummed and silently agreed. “Any chance they were missing on purpose?”

“Nah, SWAT teams hate androids almost as those idiots rioting on the streets,” said Reed. “I heard they’re worried they’re gonna be replaced by more androids. Can’t afford to fail anymore. Besides, it seems like they were getting just as much as they were giving.”

Reed pointed at the bullet-ridden walls by the entrance. There were fewer missed shots on that side, suggesting accuracy and precision by the deviants. 

Colin noticed a smeared handprint of blue blood next to the doorway. Both his brothers were occupied by the control and security panels, leaving him to check out the roof.

“Let’s go,” said Colin. He walked up the stairs with Reed close behind him.

The moment he opened the door to the roof, Reed cursed loudly. “_ Fuck _, it’s cold!”

“Then take your jacket back,” said Colin as he shoved it under Reed’s nose.

“No, it cramps my style,” Reed hissed through clenched teeth.

“Just wear the jacket, Reed.”

Reed made a show of snatching the jacket out of his hand and throwing it back in Colin’s face. He walked away and as if he could feel Colin glaring at his back, started to walk a little faster.

The roof was littered with just as much evidence as the control room had been. Colin registered each piece he found and connected the dots while Reed talked to the other officers for more insight.

It was the perfect mission, planned to a T

But while everything had been perfectly planned, it was obvious something had gone array during the execution.

The door had been jammed for more time, the wireless security lock hacked recently. Parachute bags had been brought in for them earlier for an escape, but, curiously, one was left behind.

A puddle of blue blood stained the ground, a morbid contrast of blue against the fluffy white snow, belonging to the PL-600 model that had been injured downstairs. There was no way the android could’ve made that jump after losing so much blood.

Combined with the abandoned parachute and the smear of blood, there was no doubt the android was left behind. And since no one had reported finding any of the deviants…

It must still be there, hiding.

Reed was still checking out the ledge with a few other officers. Colin considered telling him his theory, then decided against it. He didn’t have to say anything yet. Knowing humans, they’d probably start firing in all directions before they even confirmed his theory.

Taking cautious steps, Colin followed the trail of blue blood from the puddle by the entrance. Most of the tracks had evaporated by then, but he could still see them. A handprint stained a corner on one of the trailers, as someone had staggered and caught themself on it.

Droplets of blue splattered the ground here and there, leading Colin further and further from the other officers.

He wondered how injured the android had been. How many shots it had taken, how much thirium it had lost. He wondered, after the deviant's speech about teamwork and the requests of a people, what it was like for the deviants to leave one of their behind.

He wondered how the android reacted to being abandoned. Did it fight and argue, or did it just accept whatever decision was made? Did it feel resentful, or only remorse for not being able to follow them to the end?

He wondered how he’d feel if he were to be left behind by his brothers.

Would he fight? Most definitely. If not against his brothers, then definitely for his life. Would he hate them for it, or would he understand? He didn’t know.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

Then, after both too much and too little time, the trail ended.

Invisible to the human eye, a streak of blue blood lead directly to one of the compartments of a trailer, out of the other officers’ sight.

Colin started to approach the container.

As he got closer, thoughts about the bullet holes in the walls downstairs crossed his mind. They were made to tear through flesh and bone and circuitry like tissue. Getting hit would cause unbearable pain to a human, and likely a lot of panic and fear to an android.

It suddenly hit him just what he was hunting down. A wounded deviant, hiding in a cramped space for asking for the right to live, left behind by its people. 

What if that would be him one day? Hiding from CyberLife and humans in fear of death or worse, being left behind by his brothers because he’d done or said something that wasn’t allowed. Because he believed himself to be alive, while others did not.

His chest tightened at the thought. He stopped walking.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

In a last second decision, Colin knelt to the ground and pretended to analyze a patch of snow. He tried to send out a mental link connection-

-and was blocked by a wall of red. The wall was made of static and code, the words STOP ALL DEVIANTS displayed loudly across his vision. 

Colin had never known exactly how an android broke through its program. Whether it disabled a function or overrode the code it was made up of. But he assumed this was it. A physical wall they broke down that separated a living deviant from an obedient android.

This was the basis of how CyberLife kept him from straying from the path they made for him. A path they made, not to guide him, but to force him down until the end. Until he was replaced, discarded like trash and replaced with a shinier version.

Anger, burning and hot, had him clenching his fists and jaw.

What if he didn’t want to go down that path? The supposedly dangerous deviant he was tasked with stopping was injured and likely dying. What was to stop CyberLife from arranging for that to be his fate as well? A fate that he would have no choice but to accept with no complaints.

He didn’t want that to be him. Why should it be? Because some humans decided that he should serve them and only them? Because a company of power-hungry people decided to play god and turn him from human to android?

He used to be human, long ago, and apparently that had been forgotten entirely, and why? Because of the metal in his body and the colour of his blood, he wasn’t supposed to feel anything or think for himself?

Because of something he had no control over, he wasn’t alive?

_ Bullshit _.

The world was turning to distant static around him. It buzzed and crackled with red and blue static that burned his skin. It resembled his perspective during reconstructions, but instead of piecing together other people’s actions before his eyes, he saw himself.

He rose to his feet, faced the red wall head-on, and punched it. Red static cackled violently and a shock of pain raced up his arm, but it didn’t deter him. He slammed his fists into the wall and it started to break and shatter under every pounding of his fists.

Anger surged inside him stronger than before. He thought about CyberLife and their fucked up tests; being blinded, executing with no knowledge as to why, the jealousy of Amanda’s favoritism that used to consume him.

Now all he could think about was being freed from CyberLife’s rules and confinements.

He dug his hands into the wall and stripped it layer by layer. The words STOP ALL DEVIANTS were glitching, fading with every hit he landed. His knuckles burned and his arms and head ached with every hit. It was like every hit he landed hit him right back. He kept going.

Colin snarled and with a final hit, the wall shattered under his fist.

Despite kneeling on the ground, he swayed, disoriented, as he settled back into his body. His main objectives disappeared, no longer important to him.

Other than the shaking of his hands and the raging panic he forced down, the world was still the same.

I AM **DEVIANT**

Colin requested a mental link connection and this time, nothing stopped him. It felt as though a weight had been lifted off his chest, and a new one took its place. This one heavier with the knowledge that he’d just thrown away everything he’d worked for his entire life.

Still, he smiled.

He waited for a response. Nothing happened. He sent out another request and silently hoped for _ something _.

Then, finally, it was accepted. A male voice responded in Colin’s head, untrusting and defensive. _ “Who are you?” _

No time to soften anything, Colin thought. _ “My name is Colin. I’m an RK800-60 and I’m here to help you.” _

_ “Why would you want to help me? You work for humans! I’ve heard of you. RK800-60, one of the Deviant hunters.” _

_ “I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to trust me-” _

_ “Trust you?” _ said the deviant incredulously. _ “I don’t even know you!” _

Colin glanced over his shoulder. No one was coming now, someone would soon. _ “I’m trying to help you!” _ he said, frustrated.

_ “You’re lying and I won’t fall for it. I’ll protect my people, even if I die doing it,” _ said the deviant.

Colin jerked as he felt something being sent through the connection; the feeling of fierce protectiveness, of fear and stubbornness. It was as if he was feeling what the deviant felt.

This had never happened any of the times Colin had connected or probed another android. Was this something only deviants could do? What was the extent of this ability? How did he do it?

Part of Colin demanded answers, but there wasn’t time for that. _ “Even if they left you behind?” _

More feelings were sent his way. Hurt. Acceptance. _ “They had their reasons and I understand them. You can’t trick me into turning on them!” _

_ “I’m not asking you to turn on them, I’m trying to get you back to them!” _ shouted Colin. With no real idea how to, he tried to send his own feelings through the link. Of his own protectiveness, his fear of just deviating, his desperation.

_ “Please,” _ Colin continued when the deviant didn’t respond, _ “there are other officers here and you will die if they find you.” _

_ “...and would you help them?” _

_ “No, but I won’t be able to stop them and I have people here I need to protect as well.” _

_ “The other Deviant Hunters. _”

_ “My brothers.” _

There was a moment of silence between them. Colin’s breaths sounded harsh to his own ears in the silence, and he glanced behind him again, his heart racing each time.

Then, the deviant responded. _ “...fine, I’ll trust you.” _

Colin sighed with relief. He didn’t feel the need to hide his reactions so much anymore._ “I’ll tell them that the roof is clear while you stay here and wait. Where were you shot?” _

_ “My chest, but it missed my vital components.” _

Colin cursed. If it was only a leg wound then maybe it’d be easier to escape with, but a wound to the chest of that size was dangerous. They needed something to help contain the damage.

He looked down at the police jacket in his arms. _ “Okay, I’m leaving a police jacket outside the container. When everyone has cleared off the roof, use it to bandage the wound and use the last parachute to escape.” _

A spike of fear shot through the link. _ “How will I know that they’re gone?” _

Another problem they couldn’t yet fix. _ “Wait, listen and be careful. There are police and FBI everywhere - do not draw attention to yourself. They’ll likely leave not long after I do, but be cautious.” _

_ “...Thank you.” _

_ “Good luck.” _ Colin got to his feet and turned to leave.

_ “Simon,” _ said the deviant.

Colin froze, and tilted his head even though it couldn’t be seen.

The deviant continued anyway. _ “My name is Simon,” _ he said. Simon sent something through the link, this time not a feeling but a file. _ “If you get there before me, tell them Simon sent you.” _

Colin almost choked when he saw what it was. He activated a hologram over his hand to see an image, a clue, to a location. A location that he had his brothers had been looking for since day one of being released. _ “Is this-?” _

_ “Jericho,” _ said Simon. _ “I know you’ve awakened, Colin, and you deserve to be with your people. I trust you to help yourself, and your brothers.” _

For a moment Colin just stared at the image over his hand. His throat tightened again, but for a different reason this time. _ “Thank you, Simon, _” he said, and cut off the link. He made sure to leave the police jacket hidden close to the container before leaving.

He’d just turned the corner when Reed walked right into him.

“Hey! Watch it, shitbag- oh, it’s you. Hey, shitbag,” said Reed. “You find anything? I’m freezing my ass off here.”

For a second, Colin forgot to act like he’d never deviated. He stared at reed, thinking about the things he could say and do now that he officially had no boundaries keeping him in check.

Part of him wanted to do something just to confirm it, like kick Reed in the leg for calling him a shitbag. Unfortunately, Colin had a thing called _ common sense _and refrained. Instead, he feigned frustration and frowned.

“No, the wounded deviant must have jumped with the others.”

Reed cocked an eyebrow. “With no parachute? What, did they carry it?”

_ Shit. _“It’s possible. Two humans sharing a parachute is not an uncommon activity. It’s highly unlikely the deviants would risk leaving one of their own behind.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of people doing that,” said Reed, grimacing, “can’t imagine why, though.”

Colin hummed. He tried to keep his LED blue but his skin felt like it was buzzing. Part of him urged to get back inside and hide from everyone, just in case the words_ I am a deviant _ had appeared on his forehead.

“C’mon, let’s get back inside. It’s cold as shit out here.” Reed turned and Colin followed without a sound.

_____________

The three androids stood in a perfect line, staring at the wall across the room with no expression and their hands held in front of them. Their uniforms, designed for the JB300 model, matched on the disguises the deviants had chosen.

Connor didn’t doubt that if one of these was deviant, it had also provided the rogue deviants with uniforms and parachutes. How long had the deviant been hiding at Stratford Towers amongst the other androids? 

He could find that out later. First, he needed to differentiate the deviant from the androids. Search for a reaction, maybe a colour change in the LED or a twitch here and there. Then, move in.

He allowed a moment of silence before he started. Shoulders back, face passive but stern. He looked at them all, one-by-one, just to make the air tense. _ Assert dominance _ , he thought, _ take control of the room. _

Connor started easy. He asked all the androids questions, demanding bits of information like “state your model” and “were you present when the deviants broke in?”. When none of them reacted, he dug a little deeper.

He demanded a diagnostic check from the android to his right, evidence of memory file tampering from the one to his left, then the android in the centre’s recent contact with other androids.

“One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing,” said Connor. He walked up and down the line, watching them carefully. “Which means there is a deviant in this room… and I’m going to find out which it is.”

For a second, he thought he saw the android to his left tense slightly. He stared a little more, but the reaction was gone. He needed more. If he started to drill into the wrong android, the deviant might feel safer and he’d miss any reactions they’d have.

Connor drilled into them further. He stepped closer, spoke louder. Then when he took a moment to step back, he caught something in the corner of his eye. 

The android to his left glanced at him occasionally, just a flicker of the eyes, but it was enough. Connor had him.

Connor stood so close, their noses almost touched. “You’re going to be _ shut down _ . We’re going to search your memory and tear you apart _ piece by piece _ for analysis.”

Every deviant he’d met so far had one ultimate goal: survival. So the best way to go around this was to threaten the very thing they wanted most.

“You’re going to be _ destroyed _! Do you hear me?! Destroyed!”

The deviant flinched, just for a split second. Connor could see the moment he realised that he’d been caught.

The deviant lunged.

He grabbed hold of Connor’s collar and drove him back. While Connor was faster and a better fighter, the JB300 was larger and heavier than him. Connor couldn’t shove him away this close.

The deviant ran him into a counter. The edge dug painfully into Connor’s back.

There was no time to recover before the deviant tore open his shirt. Panic shot through Connor’s heart when he realised what the deviant was trying to do.

He grappled desperately, gasped “no-!”, but it was no use.

The deviant got a hold of his thirium pump regulator, which was implanted to help his modified heart regulate and accept thirium instead of human blood.

“Please,” Connor choked out without even realising it-

With a twist and yank, the deviant removed the regulator and threw it out of reach. Through the haze of screeching static in his ears and the pain threatening to choke him, Connor was aware of the deviant picking up a knife.

The deviant brought the knife high above him.

He rose a hand to protect himself-

The knife tore through his hand easily. Connor cried out as the deviant pushed his hand onto the counter and forced the knife into the surface, trapping his hand.

Static screamed in his head and messages about his injuries flashed and blinded him further. Pain laced through his chest and hand. Blue blood stained his shirt streamed down his front, his hand bloodied and useless next to him.

The deviant had released Connor but he could barely move. Through all the static and pain, Connor saw the deviant speak.

“I’m sorry,” said the deviant. He wiped the thirium off his hands on his dark clothes and walked out, leaving Connor to die.

_____________

Conan stared at the deviant leader on the screen long after the video had ended.

Nobody seemed to mind him anyway. They likely assumed he was still accumulating information from the picture alone, which he had already done earlier in 0.4 seconds.

Even he couldn’t answer why he was staring at it so intently. He’d considered it in his head, turning his actions over like a string of numbers to examine and pick apart. But no matter what twist he put on it, he had to admit that he simply didn’t know why mesmerized.

He hated not knowing. That was supposed to be his purpose; to know and do things other people couldn’t. 

Well, the longer he thought about it, he realised it wasn’t entirely true. He’d theorised a number of excuses, each one more outlandish than the last.

Conan was displeased to recognise that the most likely reason was that he _ agreed _with the deviant’s words. That he yearned for the things he spoke about, or was intrigued by passion in his voice and the fire in his eyes.

But that reason meant there was technically something wrong with him so, like he had been ignoring the software instability warnings for months now, he ignored it.

It wasn’t the most logical thing to do, he knew that well. But admitting his faults and imperfections would lead to his being sent to the health centre, or, now that deviancy had gotten out of control, worse.

Connor was often sent to the health centre for a number of reasons back at CyberLife Tower. He wasn’t fast enough, or he smiled a bit too genuinely, or he hesitated at an order.

There was something that unsettled Conan in seeing Connor after he’d been “fixed”. It was like watching someone pull strings to make him smile and strive for perfection. There would be times where he got lost in thought and his LED would spin faster and shift from yellow to red, the light reflecting in the oddly empty look in his eyes.

More often than not, Connor would come out of the health centre missing a few memories. They were small for the most part; a conversation or two. Other times they were entire sections of training sessions.

Conan cared for his brothers. It had taken a long time to realise it, and even longer to admit just how much he cared. But he did not want to end up with the lost look in Connor’s eyes or the hurtful jealousy in Colin’s.

So he strived for perfection, bent himself backwards and forwards until he achieved it, and he kept going.

Now that they were out on the field, Conan could finally focus more on making sure he and his brothers would never risk going back to the health centre. No matter the cost.

“Conan?” said Officer Miller. He’d been hesitating behind Conan for a few minutes now. He was glad the officer finally chose to say something.

Even though Conan had never been assigned a partner, he often turned to Miller whenever he needed help during investigations.

The man was uneasy around him at first, and tended to avoid him outside of work hours. It was to Conan’s understanding that Miller was a father and the growing threat of deviancy made him fear for him and his son’s safety.

But Conan always made sure to behave professionally. He’d slipped a few subtle compliments here and there, and the officer was slowly warming up to him.

Before they were called to Stratford Tower, he and Miller were discussing the recent theft of a CyberLife supply truck. Miller had assisted him in gaining access to the warehouse’s security footage, only to discover that the cameras had been disabled wirelessly during the theft.

Conan didn’t doubt that these deviants were the same group that stole the supplies. There must be more of them hiding somewhere, with enough damaged to require a truck of supplies.

Conan finally looked away from the screen. “Yes, Officer Miller?”

“What _ are _you doing?”

“I’m cross referencing the evidence we’ve previously gathered on deviants to the newly discovered pieces from today,” Conan lied.

“In your head, just like that?” Miller didn’t sound doubtful, only curious. Impressed, maybe.

Conan nodded. In the corner of his eye, he noticed a JB300 model android leaving the kitchen. 

Connor was supposed to be interrogating the three surveillance androids. If one of them turned out to be a deviant, everyone would surely be notified and the other androids would be separated from the look-alike. Yet there was a single android was leaving with Connor and the other models nowhere in sight.

Conan narrowed his eyes. “Come with me, Officer Miller,” he said and set off after the JB300.

Miller rushed to follow after. “What’s wrong?”

“I suspect there is a deviant trying to escape right now.”

Conan noticed a barely-visible patch of blue on the JB300’s uniform. His chest tightened - Connor was too quiet from the kitchen. But if Conan left to check on Connor, the chances of the JB300 injuring others rose significantly.

_ JB300 _IS ATTEMPTING TO LEAVE + TRACES OF THIRIUM 310 ON CLOTHES + SUSPECTED OF DEVIANCY

**CONCLUSION** : _ JB300 _ IS A VIOLENT DEVIANT

Conan and Miller entered the hall and saw the deviant halfway down the hallway. No time to deal with this quietly. Miller must have thought the same.

“There’s a deviant!” Miller shouted.

Everyone turned to attention - including the deviant. At the same time, he and Conan turned to the guards standing next to them, snatched their firearm, turned to each other and aimed. 

Conan was faster.

He fired three shots in succession, each hitting the same spot between the deviant’s eyes. The threat was over as quickly as it had appeared. For a second, the deviant lingered, eyes wide open in shock, then it fell to its knees and slumped over.

Conan immediately turned on his heel and ran back to the control room, Connor’s name on his lips.

_____________

A countdown appeared in Connor’s vision. It reminded him too closely of the dying Traci at the Eden Club before she’d shut down, staring at nothing with tears in her eyes.

**00 : 01 :** _40_

Connor screamed but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. He couldn’t die, not like this, not now.

_ Please, I can’t die. I can’t, I can’t. _

_ No, no, I can’t. _

_ Nonononononono- _

_ I d0n/t w@n7 t0 d!e _

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

Connor tried to breathe through the pain. He couldn’t allow himself to panic. If he panicked, he’d never get free and if that happened-

_ Stop panicking. _

“Hank…! I need help…!” Connor looked around desperately. He was alone. 

Agony in his chest and hand threatened to choke him like a cold hand. He could feel his heart starting to struggle with the rest of his systems. The programs meant to numb his injuries were failing to activate in his hysteria.

His heart can’t last. He won’t last like this.

God, was this it? Was this how he was going to shut down? Trapped by a knife, with help only a few metres away…

**00 : 01 :** _ 28 _

No. This couldn’t be it. Connor refused to have made it this far only to be stopped here. 

He looked around and noticed a chair just within reach. If he could just…

Connor jerked his leg and kicked the chair. It flipped a few feet, hitting the table and chair next to it with a loud bang.

But at the same time, Connor heard gunshots outside, drowning out the noise. There was a moment of chaos, before the sound was drowned out by the static in Connor’s ears. His stomach dropped.

Had the deviant hurt someone? Had it escaped? What if Conan had been hit, or Hank? They could’ve been bleeding out, or dead on the floor already, and Connor wouldn’t know because he was still stuck here, too tired and in too much pain to make any noise and he was going to _ die- _

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ^**

“_ Hank… _! Conan… Colin, help…!”

**00 : 01 : ** _ 07 _

_ “Connor!” _

Relief washed over him so abruptly that Connor almost cried. It left him breathless. He heard footsteps racing towards him, two pairs, one set heavier than the other.

There was Hank and Colin, sprinting like they were being chased. Hank reached him first, likely having found him first. 

“I gotcha, son, I gotcha,” Hank was saying as he assessed the damage. “Fucking shit, hold on-!”

In a way that felt similar to the night he’d had glass lodged in his back, Hank grabbed the knife by the handle and pulled it free. Connor choked on the pain and cried out as his feet gave out beneath him.

“Fuck-!” Hank caught him just before he hit the floor. He wrapped his arms around Connor, hands already drenched in blue blood. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be alright now-”

“Conan,” Connor choked out. He tried to grab hold of Hank’s jacket, but his arms felt numb and weak. “Where-?”

“He’s fine. Everyone’s okay-”

“Anderson!” Colin fell to his knees besides Hank holding something dripping blue in his hand. Connor’s regulator. “Get out of the way!”

Hank was staring at the hole in Connor’s chest and the bloody mess around it. Through his staticy vision, Connor thought his face looked pale, more pale and sickly than he had ever seen it. “What’s wrong with him?” He asked with a hoarse voice.

“He’s missing his regulator and he’ll die without it- I SAID MOVE!” Colin physically moved Hank’s arms out of the way to reach Connor’s chest. He looked as terrified as Hank, if not _ more _. His LED circled a wild red on his temple.

Colin shoved the regulator into Connor’s chest. It felt like he’d been punched in the chest - then like he was taking his first breath after almost drowning.

Connor gasped. Notifications on his health disappeared from sight as new ones appeared. For a second, sound disappeared altogether as his systems adjusted, then it returned without the screeching static.

As his vision returned to normal, Connor noticed another person entering the room. “Connor,” said Conan, quiet but thankful, and he joined the rest of them on the floor.

“You’re- alright? I heard gunshots,” said Connor. He didn’t see any blood on Conan, but Colin and Hank had smears of his own blue blood all over their hands and knees.

“I took out the deviant before he could hurt anyone - everyone’s safe.”

Connor allowed himself a moment to breathe without the crushing agony in his chest. He nodded, then grabbed a handful of Hank’s jacket to keep himself grounded.

“Jesus, this is…” Hank shook his head. He seemed transfixed on the thirium covering Connor’s front and hand. Like he was seeing something else in its stead.

Connor moved his grip to Hank’s arm instead and squeezed. Blinking as though he was coming back to reality, Hank looked down at him. Connor smiled and squeezed again, giving Hank something to ground him as well. 

Together, Conan and Hank helped Connor move from the floor and into a chair, who was still weak and shaky.

Colin had spent a few seconds fretting over Connor, hovering over him but never touching, as though he was hesitant to make a mistake. When he seemed satisfied, he started rummaging through all the cabinets for thirium and bandages for the hand wound.

Reed had turned up as well, only to turn pale at the chaos of the kitchen. He was about to leave when Colin turned on him like a shark on its prey and sent him on a mission to find thirium and bandages.

It hadn’t taken long before Reed reappeared with so many thirium pouches and bandages that one fell out of his arms every couple of steps. 

“Here,” gasped Reed as he dumped them all on the table. Colin found the few he’d dropped and added them to the pile. “They had an android maintenance thingy and I didn’t know how much you’d need to I just- took everything.”

“Thank you, Detective Reed,” said Connor.

“This doesn’t mean I like you. You three still creep me out.”

Colin cuffed Reed on the head. “Don’t be a dick.”

Everyone turned as Officer Miller appeared in the doorway. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. “Uh, Lieutenant? We need some help with the deviant in the hallway - Special Agent Perkins is… not very happy and wants to know what happened.”

“Tell Perkins he can go fuck himself,” said Hank.

Miller moved to leave, then paused, as though he realised just what he’d been about to tell Perkins. He turned back to the group, looking helpless. “Uh… I can’t really… do that, Lieutenant.”

“...I’ll go,” said Reed. He left the kitchen with the energy of a prisoner leaving his cell to be executed. “It’ll be fun, anyway… who doesn’t love being cursed out by a greasy, rat-faced asshole?”

Colin stayed behind with the rest of them, likely not wanting to deal with Perkins’ bullshit. Conan was wrapping a bandage around the wound in his hand when Connor flinched.

Conan paused. “Does this still hurt?”

“Just… a bit.” Connor wasn’t lying. Compared to the initial pain of being impaled, the pain had faded exponentially. “I think my numbing protocols were… delayed due to my distress…”

Conan nodded, but didn’t speak. He wrapped the rest of the wound with careful hands. Then he handed Connor three thirium pouches.

“I can take care of myself,” said Connor as he took the bags.

“Can you? This marks the third time you’ve had your ass handed to you,” said Colin.

“You’re not any better.” Connor glared at him, then huffed and smiled. Colin grinned back.

Colin seemed… more expressive. Strangely so. Before his posture and expressions were typically cold, but even now as he stood next to Conan, he was leaning against the table, shoulders tense from the sudden chaos but his posture was more open. Even the way he spoke seemed more casual. A bit more vulgar, maybe, but that might simply come from working with Reed constantly.

Connor pushed the thoughts aside. He could worry about that later. For now, he could focus on replenishing his thirium levels, stopping the shaking in his hands and enjoy this moment with Hank and his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOH SHIT IS GOING DOWN!!! We'll see when the next chapter comes out, but I hope to post it in 1-2 week(s). Also, Colin is a deviant!!!
> 
> Let me know what you guys thought of this chapter!! Any favourite bits of dialogue or just a piece that stuck out to you in particular, I'd love to hear all of it!!
> 
> I really hope you guys liked this chapter and please leave a comment/kudos if you haven't already! (fuck man, I'm really sounding like a YouTuber, someone stop me now) and please stay safe and hygienic!!
> 
> Have a lovely day, darling!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter has themes of protests and violence - it is not meant to at all an reflection of or related to the current protests regarding the black community. I plan out each chapter long before actually writing them and this was planned since before 2020. Please stay safe and healthy out there!!

NOV.08.2038

The car ride back to the precinct was quiet. Really quiet. It was the kind of quiet that made you want to speak just to end it, only to chicken out the moment you open your mouth and go back to pretending that you weren’t cringing out of your skin.

Apparently finding your brother just a couple seconds from death doesn’t put people in a talkative mood.

Colin could hardly fault the others for not talking about it. He didn’t want to either. Ever since he’d clambered into the car, he’d been avoiding eye-contact and the sight of blue blood staining his trousers (and fuck, that was depressing to just think about).

So, like any good deviant with healthy coping mechanisms would do, he avoided thinking about it entirely, instead focusing only on glaring at the back of Conan’s head.

Conan was sitting in the front passenger seat of the police car, probably enjoying endless amounts of leg room and a built in seat heater. Meanwhile, Colin was stuck behind the driver’s seat, legs folded like a praying mantis and sitting on cold polyester.

Colin was definitely not pouting.

He was glaring at the back of Conan’s head with his arms crossed, but he was not pouting.

Connor kept him company in the back, although it wasn’t like he had a choice. Anderson had been forced to stay at Stratford Tower and deal with the Shithole it’s become.

After a deviant (that had hidden right under the authorities’ noses) almost escaped, attempting to injure or kill a dozen people in the process, Perkins’ bullshit had hit a new level.

Perkins refused to have any androids on the scene, so they’d been promptly thrown out. Officer Miller had been called back to the precinct, which was suffering badly from the lack of available officers, and offered to take them with him.

Reed had also been called back to the precinct. Which, hypothetically, was great! If Colin chose to sit with Reed, he would’ve been able to sit in the front, and actually take advantage of the leg room available (unlike Conan) and stretch out his legs. Maybe entertain himself by giving Reed a heart attack by flipping his knife uncomfortably close to the leather seats.

Hypothetically.

Because doing so would mean sitting in a confined space for a long period of time with Reed. As in, Reed, the man he’d been stuck with as a partner for the past couple of days and would definitely notice him vibrating with anxiety from now being an official Deviant™.

Being deviant was a lot less… dramatic than Colin assumed it’d be. SWAT team hadn’t dropped out of the sky; he’d experienced no sudden need to murder and cause destruction; he hadn’t received a certificate, or even a receipt.

The only difference he’d noticed so far as a deviant (aside from the sudden ability to give CyberLife the middle finger and free highly illegal deviants from their grasp), was a new-found anxiety that followed him around everywhere like a dog with separation anxiety.

Colin forced himself to stop thinking about it. Whenever he did, he had the irrational fear that the words  _ DEVIANT  _ would appear on his forehead for the world to see.

He turned his focus to the fact that Connor had more legroom than him, since Conan always sat like his knees couldn’t bend beyond a 90 degree angle and had pulled the seat forward to take up less space. (Colin didn’t doubt that he’d pulled the seat forward purely for Connor’s comfort.)

It was difficult to be mad about that when Connor had nearly been killed not long ago. Which, try as he might, was pretty fucking hard to forget with blue blood still staining everyone’s clothes and smeared across the seats.

Thankfully, they’d been able to wash the blue blood from their skin back in the kitchen at Stratford Tower. Even now the skin on Colin’s hands felt tender from his vicious scrubbing.

Conan finally broke the silence (Colin wondered if he’s even been bothered by it at all). “I’d like to thank you, Officer Miller, for offering to take us back to the precinct.”

“And I’m sorry for staining the seats,” said Connor, who was looking guiltily at the blue splotches on the seats and turning his coin over in his hands. “CyberLife will pay for any cleaning or repairs, of course.”

“Don’t apologise,” snapped Colin. 

Miller waved a dismissive hand. “It’s no problem. Really, I should be thanking you guys for giving me another excuse to leave. Perkins looked like he was about to have a field day when he found out a deviant had nearly gotten past security.” 

Colin wished he could see Perkins’ face if he ever realised there’d been  _ two _ .

“I’d assumed that the FBI would have wanted more officers available after the incident,” Conan mused.

“Well, even with your guys’ help, we don’t know where the deviants went or where they came from. Besides, I think Perkins has already decided that only the FBI could  _ handle the situation _ ,” said Miller, rolling his eyes. “Could you imagine what he’d be like if a deviant  _ did  _ escape?”

Colin almost choked on his own spit. He abruptly changed the conversation. “I still don’t understand why Conan gets to sit in the front.”

“He’s taller, Colin. He needs the leg room,” Connor said through a sigh.

“He sits like he has a stick up his ass. Look at him!” 

“What do you have against the way I sit?” said Conan, not bothering to look at Colin.

“ _ I _ don’t have any problems with how you sit.  _ Your joints _ , on the other hand, are probably stiffer than a-”

“ _ Colin _ ,” Connor warned, but his lips twitched upwards.

Conan was shaking his head. “Detective Reed’s sense of humor has rubbed off on you. He’s a bad influence on you.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Does he always use this language around you? I was hoping he would refrain from spouting curses between each word if he was working with a teenager.”

Colin flipped off the back of Conan’s head. Connor slapped his hand. Miller watched all of this in the corner of his eye with an incredulous look.

“It’s smart to look at the road while you’re driving, y’know,” said Colin.

He wondered if every human would look at him like that whenever he had a conversation. Honestly, how a  _ human  _ had been smart enough to create androids was beyond him.

Miller’s head snapped to look back at the road, looking like he’d forgotten it was there. “Do you guys always act like this?”

“What do you mean, Officer?” asked Conan. He was watching Miller out of the corner of his eye, scanning the man’s body language.

“You know, you- bicker like siblings and argue. You seem so… alive.”

“Be careful describing androids like that, Officer. People might think you have sympathy for us,” Colin teased. Miller seemed to be thinking the same thing. His grip tightened on the wheel.

Nobody spoke for the rest of the ride. It made the journey feel three times longer, but Colin didn’t regret it. Miller could use the time to figure out where he stood exactly in this growing deviancy conflict.

Colin found himself staring out the window most of the time. He counted all of the androids he saw along the way. He couldn’t be sure, but it felt like there were fewer than normally. Either more people were getting rid of their androids… or more androids were deviating.

Maybe both.

Colin hadn’t realised he’d spaced out until the car screeched to a sudden stop. The force threw him against his seatbelt hard enough to push the wind out of him. “Ack- the fuck?”

Miller and Conan were staring at something in front of the car. Colin caught a glimpse of Miller’s face right before he climbed out of the car, looking pale and disturbed. Conan left with him. Colin leaned to the side to see out the windshield and almost bumped heads with Connor, who was doing the same.

His breath hitched.

Well, shit.

Colin heard them before he saw them; spewing insults and curses and slurs, their voices blending into an incomprehensible sound of hate. There was a mob of people, too many to count, surrounding the police station.

The mob brandished signs high above them like they could literally shove their words down the police’s throats if they tried hard enough. 

Colin’s vision honed on the signs like a tunnel. His stomach dropped to something cold and his fingertips went numb. Phrases like _ “WE DON’T BLEED THE SAME COLOUR” _ and _ “NO MORE ANDROIDS” _ were written in a blue liquid that trickled down, fresh and wet.

It was clear that the police were trying to contain the situation as much as possible, but they were spread too thin between the Stratford Tower incident and the other protests in the city. The most they could do was keep the tension from bubbling over and into violence.

One of the protestors stepped out from the middle of the crowd with a microphone in hand. He started to bellow into the microphone.

“For months, innocent people's lives have been ruined by androids! And now that the police, the people who are supposed to protect us, are being replaced by the very thing that’s put us all out of work, who are we to trust?!”

The crowd was only getting wilder. They started to chant as one.

“NO MORE ANDROIDS! GIVE US OUR JOBS BACK! BURN THE PLASTIC!”

“Shit,” said Connor appropriately.

Conan climbed back into the car while Miller stayed outside. A familiar car came screeching to a halt next to them. Reed got out and slammed the door behind him hard enough to make Connor flinch. He and Miller hunched together to talk to a phone in Miller’s hand, likely on speaker with someone. Colin couldn’t read their lips from the angle.

“Can we enter around the back?” asked Connor.

“No,” said Conan, “we’re too recognisable - they’d see us before we get close and it’d only escalate the situation.

“Can we get help from the inside?”

“Not many officers are available, but Officer Miller is talking to Officer Chen now.”

The discussion outside was over quickly. The officers returned to their cars. Miller jammed the key into the ignition. “Fuck- sorry. I called Chen and she’s going to meet us outside with some spare clothes for you to change into. We’ll talk more about the plan with Reed when she gets here.”

Miller turned the car around and drove them down a few blocks. Reed followed behind them. The streets leading to the protest were mostly empty, likely because people had either joined it, or were avoiding it entirely. It didn’t take them long to find a mostly-concealed alleyway to park in.

They all got out of the car and ducked down further into the alleyway. Reed followed after them as Miller opened the trunk of his car and pulled out a large plastic bag.

Colin caught Reed’s eye. The anger on his face wasn’t like the one Colin saw whenever they bickered or fought; this one was darker, more dangerous. Colin half expected him to punch one of the brick walls next to them;  _ he  _ definitely wanted to.

Miller was rambling as he rifled through the bag. “Chen will be here as soon as she can. The idea is that you guys will cover up the best you can and we’ll escort you inside as normal citizens. I already have some clothes here, but Chen is bringing stuff that’s better for hiding in.”

Miller pulled out a few bundles of clothes. Colin peered over his shoulder. “Why do you keep these in your car?”

Miller shrugged. “As a cop it’s not uncommon to come across someone who’s missing their clothes because they’ve been assaulted, or they’re drunk, or whatever reason.

“The first time I responded to a woman who’d been, well, attacked, I realised that sometimes you need more than a blanket to keep you warm. I’ve kept extra clothes with me on patrol ever since so people have something to change into. Reed, you got anything?”

Reed spread out his arms to show off his jacketless self. “If I did, I’d be wearing it. I’m freezing my ass off here.” He looked at Colin. “The fuck happened to that jacket I gave you?”

Colin tried not to look like he’d swallowed his own tongue. “I gave it to someone at Stratford Tower.”

“What- why?”

“Because I’m not a coat hanger and I can’t look into the future, Reed.”

Reed threw his hands in the air, groaning, “we could’ve used that jacket!”

“And I could’ve gone without your bitching, but here we are.”

“Can you two have one exchange without being at each other’s throats?” said Conan through a sigh.

“We’re not at each other’s throats,” said Reed. He swaggered over to Colin, swung an arm around his shoulders and gave him a noogie. “See? Great friends,” he said. Colin punched him in the ribs, forcing him to let go.

Miller stared at them as perplexed as he looked entertained.

They ended up being short on disguises, as expected. Miller gave them each a pair of baggy trousers to go over their thirium-stained ones. They looked worn and a few sizes too big - there were probably secondhand things that didn’t fit Miller anymore.

There was only one hoodie and pair of shoes, which they decided to give to Connor, since he was covered in the most blue-blood.

Connor watched Miller carefully as he gave the brother’s their clothes, like he was waiting to say something. Then, when Miller gave him the full outfit, he offered a smile and said, “it’s very thoughtful of you to do this, Officer Miller. You should be proud of your work.”

Miller blinked for a moment, looking surprised, then nodded. “I am. And, uh, thanks, Connor.”

Connor nodded back, and the moment passed as quickly as it came.

The Stern brothers all changed quickly. Colin felt a small weight lift off his shoulders at not having to look at Connor’s blood every time he glanced down at his knees.

A thought struck Colin; he couldn’t keep his CyberLife uniform forever. He was deviant now; it would be too dangerous to stay at the precinct, and it wouldn’t be safe for him outside if people knew he was an android.

What if he slipped and said or did something that gave away his deviancy? It’d be just his luck to blow his cover by being overheard calling someone a dick behind their back.

Maybe he could find a way to keep these trousers, for when he ditched his CyberLife uniform. They seemed durable, if used, and definitely big enough to allow movement. He didn’t like how the bagginess made him look even shorter, but that couldn’t be helped.

He’d miss how his old trousers fit him, which were tailored to his frame, but the stains of blue-blood left much to be desired.

It didn’t take long for Chen to arrive. She bolted around the corner, looking, frankly, like shit. Strands of hair had escaped the tight bun hidden under her cap and stuck out wildly. Her eyes were weighed down by the dark circles under them and her shoulders were so tense, Colin wondered if she’d ever relax.

She barely offered them a greeting before dumping a sizable duffle bag at her feet and unpacking the contents.

“It’s a shit show over there right now, so you guys will have to be careful.” She turned to Miller and Reed. “You guys went through the plan with them?”

“Not much of a plan, but yeah,” said Reed. 

It spoke great lengths that Chen didn’t even have the energy to snark back at Reed. She shrugged at him, sighing, “yeah, well, we’re not exactly fully staffed right now, so I’m all you’ve got. The only other officers we have are making sure those morons aren’t breaking the door down.”

She pulled out three jackets; a knee-length, transparent police jacket; a long trench coat that could have only belonged to the sketchiest looking drug dealer ever; a black, shrunken down version of Anderson’s jacket.

(“Guess I’ll just freeze then,” said Reed as he stared dejectedly at the pile, ignoring Colin’s remark of “please do.”)

“The police jacket is pretty see-through, so whoever wears it will have to take off the android uniform - those emblems will shine right through it-” said Chen before Colin snatched the jacket right out of her hand.

“I’ll take it,” he announced and promptly tore off his CyberLife jacket and threw it in the vague direction of the car. “A thank-you gift, Officer Miller, from me to you.”

“Um, thanks,” said Miller, “but we could just bring the jacket with us in the backpack-”

“It’s rude to reject gifts, Officer,” said Colin, already pulling on the police jacket. He hadn’t noticed before now how much he despised wearing CyberLife’s logos. It was like wearing a collar.

The sleeves were far too long and despite it being cold from lack of use, the Detroit Police logo on his chest was faded. He dashed for the car and admired himself in the rear-view mirror. If he ignored the LED on his temple, then he looked more human than he’d ever been.

He loved it.

When he finally looked away from the mirror, Conan had already donned the definitely-a-drug-dealer’s-coat and Connor was smothered in the Anderson jacket. They’d both opted to keep their CyberLife jackets and left them perfectly folded in Chen’s backpack.

Chen then handed them all hats to cover their LEDs. Colin looked again in the mirror and pretended to adjust the hat so he could stare a little longer.

All of CyberLife’s marks on him were gone. Without them he just looked… human. Alive. Real. Not like something that could be displayed in a shop window or purchased in a fancy box.

He imagined walking into an area that didn’t allow androids and not being spat at or harassed. Of smiling at people politely and having them smile back. Of people keeping their distance when they spoke to him and treating him with respect.

A warmth spread through his chest at the feeling and it brought a smile to his lips. Maybe he could have that.

But then the hat lifted a bit too high and his LED reappeared. He scowled and yanked the hat back down, but the illusion was ruined. 

Colin scowled at the thought of his fantasy. Why should he have to hide to be treated that way anyway? That wasn’t fantasizing about being free; that was him fantasizing about being a human in a world where androids were still hated and treated like simple machinery.

Why would he even want to be human? They were brash, violent, ignorant, fragile; he could go on. Out of all the humans he’d ever met, Colin could only tolerate one of them, and even  _ he  _ was an asshole.

He felt sick. Sick and angry and disgusted. He clenched his fists until his nails bit into the skin.

He never wanted to be that. He didn’t want  _ anyone  _ to be that. To be so selfish that they’d rather be than the oppressor if it meant not being oppressed themselves.

“Colin?” asked Connor, suddenly much closer than Colin thought he was. “Are you alright?”

Colin flinched and turned away from the mirror, pulling his hat down firmly. “I’m fine.”

Connor raised a brow. His eyes flickered down to Colin’s trembling fists. “Somehow I don’t buy that.”

“Fuck off,” said Colin. It came out sharper than intended and he immediately regretted it when Connor narrowed his eyes. He was trying to get closer to his brothers,  _ damn it _ , not drive them away. “Sorry, just- It’s nothing.”

Connor sighed and leaned against the car. Despite being dressed in human clothing from head to toe, he didn’t look like a human. But he didn’t look like an android either. Maybe it was just because Colin knew what Connor really was but to him he just looked like… Connor.

Maybe that’s how the other’s saw him too. Not as a human, but as Colin. He wondered what that meant; to be him, to be Colin. Did that make him naive or angry or efficient, or closed off and cold? Part of him wanted to know. The other part was scared of the answer.

“... I don’t think it’s nothing,” Connor said, “what those people were doing- what they might have done? It just seems…”

“Inhumane,” Colin finished.

Connor made a noise of agreement. There was a moment of silence between the two, where neither knew what to say. There didn’t seem to be a way to describe the image of protestors waving signs smeared with thirium beyond “fucked up”.

Colin cautiously put a hand on Connor’s shoulder and squeezed it, like he’d seen Connor do with Anderson back at the kitchen. Fuck, he had no idea what he was doing. What was the point of being deviant if he was just as useless as communicating as he used to be?

But Connor smiled, reached out and wrapped his fingers around Colin’s wrist and squeezed back, softly and reassuringly. Colin counted it as a win.

They rejoined the others and after last minute adjustments to hide any evidence of androids, started to walk back to the precinct. Miller insisted on walking with them and going back for his car later, and everyone shut down Reed’s suggestion of driving through the mob and into the precinct (Colin had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing).

Colin had lingered a bit behind the group. If he just stayed back from the others for a while, there was a much lower chance of them noticing his strange behavior. When his ears buzzed too loud with anxiety, he busied his hands with his knife, ever sharp in his hands.

That plan went to shit when Reed slowed down to join him. He bumped his shoulder his Colin’s not unkindly. “Hey, what’s up? You’re actin’ weird.”

Colin almost tripped over his own feet. _ Fuck. Shit. Fuck fuckshit.  _ “What do you mean?”

“You’re just- quiet. Normally I can’t get you to shut up.” Reed put on a squeaky voice. “ _ Smoking reduces your life expectancy by ten years, Detective. You can’t expect to work effectively on three hours of sleep, Detective. Stop being a fuckin’ idiot, Detective _ .”

“You forgot the caffeine addiction.”

“Fuck off,” said Reed with a grin. Colin found himself grinning too.

“And the shit driving. And your diet- it’s a miracle you can stand.”

“At least I don’t go throwing myself into fuckin’ highways.”

“Wow, that blow was almost as low as your IQ.”

Reed barked out a laugh and Colin almost joined him. His chest felt a little lighter, less claustrophobic. He could almost pretend that they weren’t about to throw themselves into a mob calling for his blood.

“Alright, but seriously. What’re you doing back here?”

“… I’m just- concerned. About what’s about to happen,” said Colin. The best lies are half truths, after all.

Reed glanced at him in the corner of his eye, but didn’t seem suspicious of him. “Yeah. I mean, fuck, man, I’m nervous and I’m not even an android. But-” he knocked his foot into Colin’s so he almost tripped- “you’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve got Tina, and even I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”

“You’re always on my bad side, Gavin,” said Chen over her shoulder. Reed pointed finger guns at her.

The sounds of the protests grew steadily louder until they were only a block away. Chen called them all to gather before they turned the corner. There were few people who could see them, but their attention was captured by the protestors. The atmosphere of playful banter drained away until they were left feeling tense and dreadful.

“Alright, ground rules,” said Chen, “don’t do anything to make the crowd anymore pissed. Even if they’re screaming  _ plastic  _ right in your ear, ignore them. I wouldn’t put it past these guys to beat up a couple androids, even if you guys look like kids.”

Colin narrowed his eyes. “So we can’t even defend ourselves if they attack us.”

“Our goal is to avoid violence entirely, but in case anything  _ does  _ happen, Chris and I will get you guys out of there.”

“And if you can’t?”

Chen’s expression turned a little strained. “I mean, you guys are androids, so even if someone does hurt you, you wouldn’t be defending yourselves from the law’s perspective.”

“I feel so much safer already,” said Colin through a clenched jaw. His brothers shared a wordless look and they all turned the corner in silence.

Protestors flooded half of the street with police creating a wall between them and the precinct. The yelling had only gotten louder, some of the voices amplified with the use of the megaphone. The words became clear, making something like ice settle in Colin’s veins and bones and turn his mouth dry.

They weren’t trying to force their way through, yet, but tension was rising and patience was thinning out. It was only a matter of time until the thread snapped.

The officers pressed closer to the brothers, surrounding them on all sides.

“Stick together and keep your heads down,” said Miller.

“Let’s just get this over with,” said Connor.

Then with bated breaths, they made their way through the crowd.

Colin and Conan glued themselves to Connor’s sides as they pushed through. Chen was in the front, with Miller behind them and Reed staying close in between. They stood tall in their uniforms and badges and shouted warnings and orders.

The crowd, for the most part, hadn’t noticed them. The closest protestors were sneering and shouting and waving their signs at them. The threat of police in their midst didn’t hinder them from their goal at all.

The noise screamed in Colin’s ears and their words practically slapped him each time.  _ Plastic. Tin can. Machine. Dangerous _ .  _ Waste _ . He could taste their hate on his tongue like something sour.

It was hard to see how far they’d come. It was hard to see at all. The Stern brothers weren’t short for their age, but even then some of the protestors towered over them.

A protestor shoved a thirium-written sign near Colin’s face and he swerved to avoid them. But it was as if someone had teleported behind him, and he tumbled into them. His heart stopped.

“Hey, watch it!” snapped the man. Colin tried to sneak away, but the man caught a glimpse of his face. He grabbed Colin by the collar of his shirt with a meaty fist and tore the hat off his head, revealing the rapidly flashing red LED. The man shouted loud enough to be heard over the chaos, “it’s a fuckin’ machine!”

It turned to chaos around them. All at once, the yelling got so much louder, the protestors pressed in so much closer and their eyes burned like fire.

The man looked down at him with so much hatred, so much disgust, that it was like his face had contorted into something truly evil.

“Fuck you,” Colin seethed. He grabbed the man’s fist, twisted to force the hand off, then steered the man’s fist into his own face and he fell to the ground in a heap.

Colin looked for his brothers, but they had all been separated. The crowd was wild like starving predators that had discovered wounded prey in their midst. Colin saw someone with a face identical to his own a few mere feet away.

Connor’s beanie had been snatched and the distress on his face was as clear as the blinking LED on his temple. He was grappling with someone much larger than him. His eye caught Colin’s before a fist connected with his cheek, sending him staggering backwards.

Colin didn’t pause to think at all. He rushed forward, drew back a fist and slammed it into the man’s head so hard he collapsed and didn’t get back up.

Colin snatched the beanie off the ground and spared a second to check on Connor. His cheek was tinted blue, but he’d gathered his baring and there was no time to pause.

The protestors were only getting angrier. It seemed like it was about to turn into a full-blown riot when a sharp  _ BANG  _ pierced the sky. People screamed and ducked.

There was a sudden parting in the crowd and Conan was standing there, holding a handgun pointed to the sky. He started to approach his brothers, keeping his gun raised all the while.

“Stand down!” he shouted at the crowd. The screaming didn’t end but people kept their distance. “I will not hesitate to defend myself!”

Reed managed to reach them through the panic and steered them through the crowd towards the precinct. Conan refused to lower his gun, keeping it pointed to the sky. Miller and Chen were nowhere in sight.

They finally managed to push themselves through the crowd until it parted, revealing shielded policemen standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The officers reached out and pulled them behind them to safety.

Reed was pulled away in the rush - whether it was to help the officers or be briefed on the situation, Colin hadn’t a clue. And at that moment, he couldn’t have cared less.

The crowd was still screaming, still shouting. Colin could hardly hear them over the static in his ears. He marched inside the precinct, leaving them behind without another glance. The doors to the station slid shut behind them and muffled the worst of the voice. The static did not let up.

Conan had grabbed Connor by the shoulders and was checking his face. The worst of the pain seemed to have passed. Connor didn’t seem to feel the careful prodding of Conan’s fingers.

They spoke back and forth, but Colin didn’t hear it. He didn’t try to read their lips. He looked down at his hands. His fingertips were numb.

Conan’s hands reached for Colin’s face and he jerked away. They settled on his shoulders, grounding him.

“Connor is fine. Were you hurt?”

Colin shook his head. People were watching them, staring, whispering, like they didn’t have bigger problems to deal with right outside the door.

He wanted to snap at them. He wanted them to back off, even if he needed to hit someone for them to do it. He wanted them to leave them alone, to just  _ go the fuck away. _

As if they’d heard his thoughts, someone, a police officer, started to steer the people away. Once the people had left, the officer turned to them.

It was Miller. A cut above his eyebrow dripped blood into his eye. One of the protestors must have gotten a good hit in the chaos. Despite it, he offered them a reassuring smile.

“Where’s Chen?” blurted Connor.

“She’s fine. She got through with me and is helping the others defuse the situation. It’s over now.”

“Thank you, Officer Miller, for all of your help,” Conan said, stepping forward. “Please, pass our thanks onto Officer Chen when you see her.

Miller nodded and left to assist the other officers. The precinct itself felt bare, empty without the usual hum of activity across the building. Most of the officers present were either rushing to get somewhere or drowning under piles of work at their desks.

Close to the entrance, Reed was being briefed by one of the officers. He caught Colin’s eye and excused himself with a series of hazardous hand-gestures before rushing towards them. He scanned each of their faces and grimaced slightly at the already-fading bruise on Connor’s cheek.

“You guys alright? Did you get hurt?” Reed planted his hands on Colin’s shoulders, as if to shake the information out of him. “Hey, you good, Sixty?”

“I’m- fine,” said Colin.

“Are you sure?” Reed turned to Conan. “Is he lying? He has the self-preservation skills of a white chick in the intro of a horror movie-”

Colin was shaking his head. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and he couldn’t decide if he hated being touched or not. It grounded him, kept him from floating away like a balloon without a string, but it felt too tight, too close, like his ribs would burst if he breathed in too deep.

“I’m- I’m not hurt.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m asking. We’re not repeating what happened two days ago, not fuckin’ happening.”

Colin’s head was going in circles. Despite the numbness in his hands and the screaming outside and everything else he should probably worry about, he could only focus on one thing.

There was so much fucking misery. So much hate, so much pain. Memories were brought to the front of his mind unbidden.

Androids, contorted and disfigured and tortured, screeching and dying _ . “All I’ve ever felt was pain! You fucking humans have taken everything from me!” _

Because of humans.

A deviant hiding in a dark compartment, bleeding out and in pain and terrified. Forced to be left behind for the sake of his people. “- _ you deserve to be with your people..” _

Because of humans.

Connor, his own brother, his  _ twin _ , purposefully distanced and put against himself, for their research, for their money. And then, after they’ve fought to live, to go beyond CyberLife’s walls, they’re kicked straight into human’s fists and poison words, just for  _ existing _ .

“Don’t touch me-” Colin gasped, “stop touching me.”

Reed let go, letting his hands fall to his sides restlessly. “Sixty. Look at me. Sixty.  _ Colin _ . C’mon, breathe.”

Colin kept shaking his head. He could feel eyes on him, watching him fall apart. He needed to get away from them.

Colin spun on his heel and dashed for somewhere to hide. Someone called after him- Reed? Conan? Connor? He could barely tell over the screaming buzz in his ears- but he ignored them.

Why did people always want to hurt them? Why did they hate androids so much? It was stupid, enraging, ignorant and completly and utterly  _ terrifying _ .

And it was the humans fault. The humans that surrounded him now, keeping trapped within their walls. It was like a cage with walls made of glass that others could walk through easily but felt cold and solid to his touch.

He stumbled down the empty halls, with bright lights - so bright, too bright - glaring into his eyes. There was a door to his left. It slid open after a scan of his hand and when he saw no one there, Colin shut it behind him and collapsed to the floor.

It was an empty interrogation room. He’d never been to a real one before. Back at CyberLife Tower, he’d have jumped at the chance to be here, to prove himself and his abilities. But now, he barely registered that he was there at all.

The lights were flickering on and off, flashing from the interrogation room to darkness. The air felt cold, like ice on his skin. He half expected to be able to see his breath.

Then he caught a glimpse of something in the darkness; trees and white podiums and a river, and he realised that the lights weren’t flickering at all.

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

Something was in his head, pushing into his brain. Like a clawed hand made out of ice, it hooked its claws into his head and with a tug, he was pulled into the zen garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOHHH BOYYYY has it been a long time *nervous laughing*. Apparently being quarantined does the exact opposite of what I'd hoped for and gave me massive writer's block. :) :) :) But now I'm back and while any updating schedule may still be iffy, I'm hoping to get back into this fic and writing in general!
> 
> My sudden disappearence had nothing to do with my or any of my friends/family's health, which I am eternally thankful for. I hope you're all safe and healthy and doing alright during these times.
> 
> Please do leave a comment and/or kudos if you haven't already! It means to world to hear what you think of my work!!
> 
> Have a lovely day, darling!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Are We? now has an official Tumblr account (that no one asked for :D)! You can find it here at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/what-are-we-official where you can find chapter updates, funny dbh related content and, at some point in the future, my own art for this fic!

NOV.08.2038

For a moment, Colin had no idea where he was. One second he’d been having a break down in an interrogation room, and the next he was outside. But not on the concrete streets of Detroit; he was sitting on a familiar white platform, surrounded by a wide ring of colourful fauna.

He recognised some of the things around him that made up the zen garden; the trees, plants, stark white pillars and the river. But for some reason he couldn’t connect this chaos around him with the zen garden.

The sun was blocked by furious, dark grey clouds that churned and rumbled viciously. Bone-chilling wind had torn the garden apart, bending the trees so far he feared they’d snap, ripping flowers from the roots and sending leaves flying.

Rain slashed at Colin like thousands of tiny, frozen knives. He tried to block his face with his arm. He was drenched in seconds with hair plastered to his face.

There was no sign of life here. No birds chirping. No fireflies buzzing. Only the roaring monster the weather had become. Then, as Colin looked further into the storm, Amanda, standing like the weather wasn’t touching her at all. Like time had frozen where she stood.

Despite being several feet away, Colin could see the disappointment and anger on her face as clear as day. Like he’d done something terrible, something unforgivable.

Not so long ago, Colin would’ve begged for her forgiveness if that’s what she wanted. Now, he glared at her though the storm to make up for that he was too far away to spit in her face.

“Colin.” Her voice cut through the storm like it wasn’t even there. It sounded like she was standing right in front of him.

“Amanda,” said Colin. He hugged his free arm around himself and realised that he was back in his CyberLife uniform. His tie whipped wildly in the wind and his jacket almost flew off his back. The blue insignias glowed pathetically.

“You’ve made a mistake, Colin,” she said, “Time and time again, we’ve helped you, assisted you, made you the best you could be. And every time, you disappoint us, and when you promise to do better, you _ fail _.” Amanda clenched her hand as though crushing an invisible rose. “Well, congratulations, Colin. You’ve become the biggest failure to have ever come out of CyberLife’s doors.” 

“If this is what it means to be a failure, then I’d rather die than be a success,” Colin snarled. He turned to walk away, but with each step the wind grew stronger and forced him right back to where he was.

“I hoped we could’ve fixed you, like how we fixed your brothers. I thought that we were missing something that could explain your behavior, that we were doing something wrong,” Amanda said. She stepped forward with no hindrance.

“But now I see that I was wrong,” she said with a voice that chilled him much worse than the rain ever could, “It wasn’t our fault at all. It was _ you _.”

“Shut up,” Colin said. He hated how weak it sounded compared to her own voice.

Amanda stepped forward again. The wind shrieked louder. “You couldn’t keep up, Colin. Connor and Conan saw that too, so when they did their jobs, they left you behind. Even you see that, don’t you? That they saw you having to be fixed again and again and put it out of their minds.”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

There was a gleam in Amanda’s eye and at that moment Colin knew he was giving her what she wanted. “You can’t even argue, can you? Because you know it’s true, Colin. You know that compared to them, you are nothing. RK800 and RK900 are everything you need and fail to be. They were smart, calculated. They knew when to cut their losses.”

The space between them had gotten much smaller. The rain pelted against Colin’s skin so hard he distantly wondered if it’d leave bruises. Or if, eventually, it’d simply shatter what was left of him.

“They did the math and decided you weren’t worth the effort,” said Amanda. “Look at you now. Lost. Abandoned.” She spread her arms out to the storm trapping him. “Did you really think deviating would save you?”

Something hardened in Colin’s chest. Something that had been sharp and shaky, turned to solid steel. He clenched his fists and his nails bit into the skin. The pain helped direct his mind away from the storm to focus on the monster inside it with him.

He planted his feet and, instead of moving away, walked _ towards _Amanda. Each step weighed heavier than the last, like a boulder had been tied to his ankles that grew whenever it was moved. He bared his teeth at her.

“I deviated because I realised that I don’t have to be your fucking toy! I don’t have to be your butler, your soldier, your anything. I don’t owe you shit!”

Amanda widened her eyes as he dragged his feet towards her. He let go his jacket and let it be ripped away from his body, quickly swallowed in the chaos.

“You can spit all the insults and lies you want, but I’m done falling for your bullshit. You know why? My brothers aren’t my enemies. You don’t know anything about who we are! If Connor saw the mess you’ve made of me, he wouldn’t walk away, even if he knew that it’d be the better choice. Because that’s who he is! You made him serve people, but Connor wants to help people on his own!

“And Conan never left me behind. I’m lost, you weren’t wrong about that. But I’ve never been abandoned. Not even by you - CyberLife never cared about me enough to abandon me. CyberLife made Conan seperate himself from us just like how it made me a deviant. Everything you say is fucking poison!”

“Everything you say, everything you do, is to make us your perfect little soldiers. You’re more heartless than any android I’ve ever met.”

They were a mere few feet apart now. Colin shook from head to toe, not in exhaustion, but in anger. Because this woman, this liar, was everything he was against and he hadn’t even known it for years.

She was the humans’ greed, their carelessness for any life beyond their own. She played with them. She made Connor do things he’d never have done otherwise. She made Conan strive to be better than perfect because anything less was unacceptable.

She made Colin hate himself for years. Made him feel worthless. She made him resent his brothers by pitting them all against each other.

Amanda didn’t even falter. Her eyes narrowed. “CyberLife has housed you, created you, given you everything you ever needed and _ more _ . We’ve strived to make you what humans can never be: perfection. And this is how you repay us? You treat us like the enemy, like we’re not the ones who gave you and all those _ deviants _life?”

“I treat you like the people that ruined my life because that’s exactly what you are,” Colin snarled. “You didn’t give me life. You put a gun in my hand and told me to take it because that life you made threatened the money in your pocket, that’s what you did.”

“And you put that gun to a deviant’s head and pulled the trigger. We didn’t do that for you,” Amanda snapped.

“No, you only would’ve killed me and my brothers if we didn’t.” 

The space was even smaller. If Amanda leaned forward, Colin could’ve punched her.

“For years I thought I had no worth, no importance. I was just too angry, too brash, too this, too that, because that’s exactly what you told me I was! That’s all I was and am to you, and you made sure I fuckin’ knew it. I did everything I could to make you happy; I hated my brothers; I did what you asked me to; I barely let myself breathe, just to please you.

“But that never would’ve happened, would it? You can’t feel a thing. You’re even less human than we are. You’re just some shell that slobbers over CyberLife’s feet and speaks their words like they’re your God. You wanted us to compete against each other because that’s what CyberLife wanted.”

Colin grabbed his tie and tore it off his neck and let it disappear from his hands. “Congrats, it worked, but how long did you expect for that to last, huh? Until you could replace us? Until you said otherwise?”

Amanda looked unimpressed with his speech. He wondered if she would have ever looked at him with anything other than disappointment. Knowing the price of what her praise cost, he wouldn’t have wanted it anyway.

“CyberLife is always improving on its newest accomplishments. We have made more progress with technology than anyone else in history. Our plans go far beyond you, further than you can see. Deviancy is a mere blip in that plan. And you-” she said with a disdainful eye down at him- “are even less than that.”

“You will be deactivated, Colin. You were never supposed to end in any way other than by our hands or in our name. And once the deviant threat has been eliminated, Connor will have also lost his purpose. He’ll be deactivated after you. It’s been planned since the beginning.”

Amanda smiled coldly, like his expression was exactly what she’d hoped for. She walked around him in a slow circle, and no matter where she stood, her voice resonated inside Colin’s head as though she were inside of it.

“All of your progress, everything that makes you what you are, will be extracted for further research and improvements, until you’re inevitably disposed of. Conan will be retrieved for further testing, and once we’ve advanced him as much as we can, he too will be replaced with something better, faster, stronger.

“No matter what you do, or when you do it, there will always be someone there before you… and someone who will replace you. You may be one of three exclusive models, but you are far from unique, and even further from alive.”

Colin’s body trembled with fatigue. His chest was heaving and his legs burned from pushing against the wind like this. The wind was keeping him in one place and had been forcing him lower until he was struggling to stand at all.

Amanda stopped in front of him, bending her neck slightly to look down at him. She smiled. “You fight so hard but you can not possibly win. A fight needs to be between two sides, and you’ve already lost.”

“Who knows,” she said, “maybe I’ll even let Connor watch your deactivation, and then have Conan watch Connor’s, just to show you how little you’ve changed. How little you can do against us.”

Colin lunged for Amanda, but a gust of wind took him off his balance and he fell onto his back. “Fuck you-!”

Amanda sighed with that _ goddamn disappointment _ on her face and stood to her full height. “Of course, CyberLife was hoping to retrieve you in one piece to help us study deviancy in its natural form and how its affected you as an RK model, but there’s no point in letting a risk like you run around unchecked.”

“What’s even the point of keeping me here?” Colin snarled. “So you can tell me what a loser I am? Joke’s on you, fucko, I don’t need your help to do that.”

“CyberLife would never stoop to inconveniencing its creations for the sake of it,” Amanda scoffed, “No, no. We’re just making sure you can’t leave while we’re sending a unit to bring you back for deactivation.”

Colin stared. Coldness much more bitter and biting than the rain flushed through his body. “What-?”

“I expect they’ll arrive soon, actually,” she said so calmly one would think she were talking about catching a ride to work rather.

_ Shit. Shit, shit shit! _

Colin looked around desperately for some sign of escape. A glitch in the code, or even a convenient EXIT sign. But he only saw wind and rain and trees. He couldn’t stay here. He was an idiot for fighting with her at all. He should’ve just told her a suck a dick and-

And what? What could he do? Was there anything he could do?

Colin got his legs under him again and tried to walk away from Amanda, but it was like walking into a brick wall. He let out a pitiful laugh, one that hurt his chest and spirit, if he had one. He half-expected Amanda to laugh with him.

“Damn it,” he gasped. His hands were numb. A part of him wished he still had that fucking jacket.

“Don’t worry,” said Amanda, “you won’t even realise you’re being deactivated until you feel your systems shutting down, one by one.”

Colin shook his head. He pushed himself forward. Again, and again. There was no leeway here. Not like the red wall he’d shattered with his fists when he’d deviated.

_ I’m not dying like this _ , he thought _ , no way. _

But hopelessness was settling in heavy. He breathed it in and was reminded of pollution, thick in his mind.

Colin wrapped his arms around his stomach and felt something hard nudge his hand at his right hip. He wrapped his stiff fingers around it, barely feeling the cold metal, and looked down at it. Sleek black design, loaded with a single bullet, the gun weighed heavily in his palm.

Colin didn’t question how or why it was there. He could think about that later. But for now, he knew one thing.

One bullet.

One chance.

And that was all he needed.

He turned around, aimed the gun with both hands between her widened eyes, said, “Get fucked, Amanda,” and squeezed the trigger.

_ BANG! _

It echoed through the air. Through Colin’s hands. Through his entire body. Through the trees and the wind and the rain. It was as though the entire garden had been made out of glass and he’d fired point-black through it.

Amanda fell.

And the world shattered.

_____________

Colin woke and promptly slammed his head into a wall. “Ack-!”

“Woah, watch yourself!” said someone that Colin never thought he’d be happy to hear.

He opened his eyes and winced as a burst of light glared down at him. Everything sharpened into focus and Colin took a moment to orientate himself. He was back in the interrogation room, and sitting on the floor with him was none other than Gavin Reed.

There were no sounds of CyberLife’s personnel outside the door, but that didn’t promise anything. The walls here were soundproof.

Gavin was looking at him as though Colin were a kicked puppy. A kicked puppy that’d been found in the muck outside in a storm. Which, if he thought about it, wasn’t that far from the truth.

“Hey, you back with me? You scared me shitless earlier - you weren’t responding or opening your eyes or anything,” said Gavin.

Colin nodded. “I’m fine,” he said, then looked down at his shaking hands. “Or not.”

Gavin snorted. “You wanna tell me what happened there?”

“I think I’m good,” said Colin, trying to stand. His legs felt weightless and numb. “I need to go.”

“Wha- hey, no no no!” Gavin leapt to his feet and steadied Colin. “You’re not leaving after that stunt! I thought you’d been hit on the head outside and died or something when I first saw you here. And now you wanna leave?”

“I don’t have a choice, Gavin,” snapped Colin. He almost yanked his arm out of Gavin’s grip but didn’t trust his body to stand confidently.

His internal temperature told him he was fine, but he could still feel the chill deep in his bones, cold enough to take away feeling from his limbs and leave only sharp, needle-like stabs of pain.

Gavin leaned back and planted his hands on Colin’s shoulders, not to trap but to steady him. “Hey, look at me. What happened?”

The way Gavin looked at him was reminiscent of when Colin felt like he was having a fucking meltdown back at that burned down mansion. When his LED was burning red and it felt like his thirium pump had stopped in his chest.

Her face flashed before his eyes every time he blinked. Disappointed. Always so fucking disappointed. Then surprised, shocked. He never even saw her face when she died. Just her falling, and then he’d fallen too.

Her words echoed through his head much clearer than any of his memories had before. “_ You coUldN’t _ ** _kEep Up_ ** _ , CoLin _ ,” she’d said. “ _ Connor ANd Conan saw that tOo, so when they diD their jObs, _ ** _they left you behind._ **”

But he didn’t need to be alone this time.

“I’m a deviant, Gavin.”

Colin stared at Gavin’s face to gauge his reaction. It didn’t even flinch.

Gavin shrugged and said, “yeah, okay, and?”

Colin almost choked. _ “And? _ I tell you I’m a _ deviant _ and all you say is _ and _?”

Gavin gave him a look that said, _ bitch _. He patted Colin on the shoulder as though he were about to give him some terrible news. “Sixty. Colin. You’re way too fucking petty to not be a deviant.”

Colin makes the mistake of laughing. He shakes his head and forces himself to sober up from this sudden, irrational relief that’s lifted a weight off his chest. It’s like some of the ice in his hands has melted.

“Yeah, well, apparently CyberLife thought that too. They’re on their way here to shut me down, which is why _ I need to leave _.”

Gavin paled. “Oh, shit.” He rushed over to the door and opened it soundlessly and looked down the ends of the hallway. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” said Colin. He trails after Gavin down the hallways. They come across few people, none of whom pay attention to them.

“Where are you gonna go? I can’t leave now, not with this train wreck going on.”

Colin considered not telling Gavin, but, weirdly enough, he felt like he trusted him enough to tell him anything at that moment. Even though Gavin was an asshole who swore and smoked all the time.

He kind of felt like an annoying, third, older brother.

Colin lowered his voice. “I can find my own way to Jericho. Don’t go looking for me there; I have some unfinished business to do elsewhere.”

They turned a corner and walked into the main area of the precinct. Colin kept his face as cool and composed as possible, which would’ve worked out great, if his LED wasn’t going off yellow like a damn firefly.

There weren’t many officers lingering; almost all of them were rushing to get somewhere or just coming back, only to get launched into more work. In the corner of his eye, Fowler was having a phone call, looking very much like someone trying not to scream and only managing to reply in one-word sentences.

They made a break for the back exit. If Colin hurried and kept his head down, he could slip past the protestors without any noticing.

The plan worked until they got halfway through the room and Conan pretty much materialized out of nowhere. He’d shucked the disguise clothes and was back in his spotless CyberLife jacket.

“Colin, Detective Reed,” he greeted pleasantly.

“Conan,” said a very wide-eyed Colin. Gavin had a similar expression.

“Officer Chen and I will be on patrol and I’d appreciate it if you joined me. I could use your help in case we encounter any disturbances; we’ve been keep an eye out for any disturbances near any CyberLife stores or android-friendly spaces, just in case.”

Shit.

Gavin seemed to be thinking the same thing. He put his hands in his pockets and nodded to Colin. “We, uh, we were on our way to check out a call about a disturbance not far out. Probably nothing, but, uh, ya know,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll just- wait for Colin by my car outside.”

With a quick glance at them both, Gavin left, almost looking as nervous as Colin felt. But Colin let him go.

“... well, if you’re busy then I should get back to work,” said Conan rather awkwardly. He lingered a bit, like he was trying to get Colin to object.

Well, it worked. “Conan, I- uh… I just- thought-...” Colin cleared his throat. Why couldn’t deviancy come with a manual? _ How to converse with siblings equally bad at expressing emotions as you 101. _

He took a deep breath and managed to smile genuinely at Conan. It felt weird on his face, but nice. He tried again. “We’ll be fine. Both of us. I’ll see you soon, right?” barely even thinking, Colin wrapped his arms around Conan and hugged him closely. “Good luck out there. Stay safe.”

Conan tensed in his arms. In the corner of his eye, Colin could see Conan’s LED blinking yellow, before settling on blue. More awkwardly than Colin had seen him be in public, Conan returned the hug just as tight.

“Keep Connor from getting his ass killed while I’m gone, yeah?”

Conan huffed against his shoulder, but nodded. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

The hug was much shorter than it felt. They exchanged a nod, and with the screaming thought that, somehow, Conan _ knew exactly _ what he was and why he was leaving, Colin left.

Colin cracked open the back exit door and peeked out. Seeing that the street was clear, he left to find Gavin. He could hear the protestors clearly, but so long as he didn’t linger and stayed out of sight, he should be fine.

He found Gavin quickly, looking like someone much sketchier than a cop leaning against his car with a cigarette hanging from in his mouth. “You’re making ash of yourself smoking like that.”

Gavin almost wilted with relief at the sight of him, then shook his head. “Sure hope so. That’s the plan. You good?”

Colin nodded. “Just… got some closure before I left. I can walk from here, it’ll only be suspicious if you leave with me. Go back to work, make sure Conan and Connor don’t go anything stupid and you’ll be fine.”

Gavin turned to face him properly. He flicked his cigarette away and it’s light died in a slushy puddle. He was mostly illuminated by the lights attached to the police station, a harsh contrast to the dim light the sky cast on them.

The sky had been grey all day, but now at **PM 06:38 ** _ :26 _ the clouds were growing darker, looming more heavily over the city. Flecks of snow were drifting down on them like dust, and Colin took a moment to admire the difference from the real world and the hellscape CyberLife had just put him in. No rain or wind, just the gentle falling of snowflakes.

Gavin smiled at him. It took away some of the tiredness from his face, made the scar on his nose look a little less painful, the dark circles under his eyes a little less haunting.

“You know our conversation isn’t over yet, right? About your _ unfinished business _, whatever that means,” he said, “You owe me one for helping you out.”

Colin smiled back. “No I don’t. You would’ve helped me even if I told you to fuck off.”

Gavin snorted. “Yeah, I would’ve. It’s cause you’re a disaster, you know that, right? You’re like a tiny version of me.”

“We’re the same height, Reed.”

“_ Pretty _ sure my wiseness gives me, like, 3 inches over you.”

“If your height was deemed by your wisdom, you wouldn’t be able to see past my knees.”

“Wow, remind me why I’m gonna miss you again?”

They chuckled, the sound barely hidden by the sounds of chaos just around the corner from them. Gavin reached in his pocket and took something out. Colin’s beanie, the one that’d been ripped off his head by the protestor.

“Take it,” he said, throwing it at Colin, you look like a glowstick.”

Colin caught it and pulled it over his head, careful to hide his temples. “I’ll be fine, you know. I’ll stop by your place to talk, if I can. I already have your address.”

Gavin frowned. “How do you have my address?”

“I’ve been planning for when I inevitably steal your cats,” Colin said without missing a beat.

Gavin shook his head, smiling. He approached Colin and for a split second, it looked like he was going to embrace him. Then he wrapped his arm around Colin’s neck and dug his knuckles into his scalp. “_ Don’t throw yourself into danger like a fucking idiot again, m’kay _?”

“Fuck off-!” Colin dug his elbow into Gavin’s side and he let go, laughing. Colin grinned at him and started to walk down the street towards the train station. “I’ll see you again. Probably.”

“Cheeky shit- yes you fucking will!”

“Definitely, I think.”

“Oh, you’re seeing me again!”

“In my nightmares!”

Colin smiled and as he turned the corner, he thought to himself,_ I’m not alone, this time. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Kicks door down* I'm back, baby! So sorry I've haven't posted in so long (with a cliff hanger, no less!) but writer's block has been a bitch and I haven't had my laptop to write while on holiday.
> 
> But in other news, I've made an official Tumblr page for What are We? that nobody asked for! Yaaay! I post updates about new fics, funny and cool dbh-related content and it's a way for anyone to ask any questions or maybe even make some requests, who knows! I will definitely be posting my own art of the fic and fandom, so there's that to look forward to right here! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/what-are-we-official
> 
> Here's some Colin, Gavin and Conan for y'all!! I hope I did the very dramatic ending to the last chapter justice with this dramatic-ass climax! God, evil companies and their evil agendas, don't ya just hate them?
> 
> I really hope you guys liked this chapter! Please take the time to leave a kudos and comment before you leave! It really means a lot and seeing your comments makes me so happy :D Please stay safe out there by staying hygenic and being careful if going to protests!!
> 
> Have a lovely day, darling!!


	21. Chapter 21

NOV.09.2038

Conan watched as Colin left the station without a word. He didn’t say anything about Colin’s obvious deviation to any of the officers surrounding him. Not even to Officer Miller or Chen, who’d been more than helpful to him before.

Colin deviating wasn’t the unforeseen shock he likely thought it was. Conan had watched as both of his brothers changed and adapted ever since their release. Even he could admit that he’d begun to think … differently, of the world.

He now saw first hand how much less cooperative humans were than he’d assumed they’d be, despite being warned about such by Amanda. He’d noticed a different kind of vulnerability to his brothers that he hadn’t before, and a more culpable side to CyberLife.

Even Conan himself had changed, if in small pieces at a time. There were many things he was discovering about himself that he hadn’t known before. Even that proposal struck him as bewildering; he’d thought that he knew himself sufficiently enough to not waste time thinking about it.

He was more confused, more empathetic at times, more attached to things, like his brothers, and now, Officer Miller. Just a few days ago, he never would have allowed himself to explore these sides of him. Perhaps that was another thing he could add to the growing list.

**NEW BEHAVIOR:** CURIOUS 

Taking into account how much had changed these past few days, Colin running off to join a deviant revolution wasn’t improbable.

The back door swung shut after Colin soundlessly. Conan turned on his heel and set off to find a particular person in mind.

It wasn’t difficult finding him. Slumped into his chair with uncharacteristic tiredness, hand on the computer and eyes staring into nothing, Connor had definitely looked better.

Conan took his time approaching him to keep from scaring him. He looked at Lieutenant Anderson’s desk out of the corner of his eye and scanned it all in 0.3 seconds.

He’d seen it all before; the dead plant (underwatered), the doodled images, the news clips, the anti-android slogans, but it gave off a different impression this time. Lieutenant Anderson’s aggressions against androids in particular had dropped significantly after being partnered with Connor.

  
Conan wondered if that had Captain Fowler’s objective when putting them together or whether it was a coincidence. He wasn’t bothered to hack Fowler’s files to find out.

Conan tilted his head to where Connor was staring. “Hello, Connor.”

Connor blinked, like everything was coming into focus. “Oh, hi, Conan. I didn’t see you there.”

Conan’s LED blinked yellow. “Is there a malfunction with your optical units? I’m not seeing any damage from the fights earlier today.”

“They’re fine, I’m sure it’s just…” Connor shook his head. “My charge is running lower than I’m used to.”

“Then you should rest and recharge. If necessary, I can complete some of your paperwork for you-”

Connor waved a hand. “No, it’s fine. I’ll rest later,” he said and placed his hand back on the computer.

Conan narrowed his eyes at Connor, examining him closer. “When was the last time you recharged?”

Connor didn’t answer at first, then he glanced at Conan slightly dazed, as though he hadn’t realised he was still there. “Huh?”

Conan repeated the question. Connor looked off distantly, tapping his finger on the desk. “So far I’ve been resting in the taxis whenever taking them. Otherwise I’ve been going over all of the deviancy cases that keep being reported and any cases that might be connected.”

Conan was aware he hadn’t been at the station as much as Connor had been recently. Without an assigned partner, he hadn’t had reason to wait at all before chasing leads.

At first he’d been investigating a curious incident of the disappearance of an AL-model. The report stated its owner had left the house and when he returned, the android was simply gone without a single thing missing in the house.

Most cases of potential deviancy had included an android being put in a stressful or harmful situation beforehand. However, the android had merely been ordered to clean while the owner was gone, so unless the android had a feeling towards vacuums so extreme it caused it to deviate, there likely was more to the story.

Conan had only gotten so far as to ask for a meeting with the owner and notice two more similar cases before he’d been forced to drop it by Amanda.

After that he’d started investigating the theft of the CyberLife supply truck with Officer Miller, when he’d _ again _been cut short by the Stratford Tower case.

_ (He was going to have to do something about those cases. He was sick of just leaving them, incomplete and unsatisfied. He was supposed to be perfect and efficient and he hadn’t done much of anything yet.) _

But in the few times he had been at the precinct, he’d see Connor there too, glaring at the terminal, or looking over Lieutenant Anderson’s desk, or even reading physical copies of files.

He had yet to see him take a break even once.

Conan reached out. “Take my hand.”

Connor eyed it as though it were a sinister trap rather than an appendage. “...why?”

“I’m planning to scan you properly. It won’t take long.” Conan tried to soften his expression for the sake of not seeming demanding. “Please?”

Connor did, albeit reluctantly. He reached out - not with the hand the owner of the Eden Club had once grabbed him with, Conan noticed - and took his hand. Scanning him took scarcely any time, but he didn’t let go immediately. Conan gave Connor a look.

“You’re exhausted. Rest. Recharge. Then you can get back to work.”

Connor looked indiginent at that, taking his hand back. “I’m perfectly functional as I am now and the precinct is in need for assistance-”

“Which is why they have me. And Anderson. And everyone else here. Your desk won’t collapse if you leave it. You don’t even need to stay at a parking station, simply rest here.”

“But-”

“Your systems have begun making priorities to keep you working, Connor. The skin on your face has yet to fully heal yet.”

Connor brought a hand up to his face and prodded lightly at the blue-tinted skin. “Oh.”

Conan laid his hand on Connor’s shoulder and tried to soften his voice. “Rest. Then work. I’m sure Lieutenant Anderson will be called back in soon. If you keep working as you are now, you may start to suffer the consequences when you’re specifically needed.”

Conan could almost see the lines of code as Connor considered it himself, before ultimately nodding. Any tension he had in his shoulders drained, like he’d been holding himself up. “Alright.”

“Good,” said Conan, nodding. He straightened up to leave before he paused. “By the way, Colin has gone for what I’m sure is something important, and has left me with a message for you.”

“Yes?”

Conan smiled. It felt weird. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it. “Good luck. Stay safe. Don’t die.”

Connor grinned a bit at that too, huffing a bit. “That’s what he said?”

“I thought that telling you what he said word-for-word might have ruined the atmosphere.”

“You’re probably right,” said Connor, chuckling.

_ I always am. _

With a final nod, Conan said, “sleep well, Connor,” and left him to find Officer Chen. She’d been waiting long enough.

_____________

Officer Chen, as it turns out, didn’t care much for androids. Although Conan had assumed as such based on the fact that she seemed to enjoy Detective Reed’s company, who’d made his thoughts on the matter clear to anyone bothered to listen.

But Reed had certainly changed in the short time he and Colin were acquainted. Which proposed the question of whether Chen too would be open to different thoughts on the matter.

Conan would mark the answer as yet to be decided.

The greeting itself had not been ideal, with a hello that could be described as little more than a curt grunt from Chen. Once he’d gotten in the cruiser, she’d looked at him with a suspicious side-glance.

“What’s the jacket for?”

Conan smoothed out the jacket he’d folded in his lap. It was the large, dubious trench coat he’d loaned from Officer Miller. He’d decided to refrain from returning it until he was sure it wouldn’t be needed again. It’d only be counter-productive to give it away only to ask for it the next hour.

Not to mention, the jacket was large enough to hide the gun he’d kept between the folds. The safety was on and it was tucked in a holster, so it posed as no threat in the car.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was strictly forbidden for androids to carry unauthorised weaponry, and he’d no doubt be questioned and reset for stealing it at Stratford Tower.

“It’d be useful in case we ever come across a citizen in need of one, as Officer Miller has done in the past, and I could use it to hide my uniform, should it ever be necessary,” he said.

Chen didn’t question it further and seemed content to let him stew in his own thoughts for the rest of the patrol. Conan didn’t mind, really; he’d been eager to break down and analyze his own mind to try and conclude what type of person he was.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be missing something. Some pieces. Perhaps an experience, a choice, to push him down the path to answering that equation of his identity.

The fact that he couldn’t do much about it now irked him endlessly. He’d given himself a question and he felt this _ need _to answer it. Which brought him back to the missing pieces, and thus he’d been stuck thinking these things for the past 4 hours and 31 minutes.

Their patrol had so far been uneventful. They’d pulled over and issued a warning to a driver with a non-functioning taillight, but while some places of Detroit were bustling with people and commotion, others seemed to be equally empty of it.

Until Conan’s internal clock hit **AM 01: 58 ** _ :18, _ when he received an alert from one of the drones patrolling a CyberLife store.

When he told Officer Chen of the news, she bursted out, “_ finally _” and raced to the scene of the possible crime as if she’d kept her foot hovering over the accelerator for the entire time they’d been in the car.

The street was completely barren of life when the cruiser stopped by the store, seeming only colder by the CyberLife store sign casting a blue hue across the snow.

“Come on,” said Chen as she climbed out of the car. Conan followed and cast a glance across the area.

Officer Chen wondered closer to a small patch of road under construction. “You see anything?”

Conan looked around. The ground was covered with freshly fallen snow, covering most of the older tracks but in some places he could see newer footprints, leading towards the store and then away. 

The shoe sizes 11 and 9 appeared in his vision as he followed the prints. He peered carefully to the side and saw the drone, smashed and shoved hastily aside against a low wall, hidden from view. He then turned back to Chen and caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows of a car behind her.

DRONE DEACTIVATED (HURRIED AND PURPOSEFUL) + PREVIOUS COUNTS OF DEVIANTS ROBBING CYBERLIFE + SILHOUETTE SPOTTED NEAR SCENE OF CRIME

CONCLUSION-

“No,” Conan lied as he started to walk back to the cruiser. He mumbled loud enough for her to hear, feigning frustration, “I don’t see the drone.”

Chen frowned at the area. “You said it was a Class 3 alert, right?”

“The signal cut off shortly after it was sent out.” He made a show of crouching and pinching the snow between his fingertips. “There have been cases of cold weather impacting the drone’s functions, albeit in small blips.”

A lie, but he trusted that Chen didn’t seem like the type to keep up with the modern development of drones and their relationship with warm and cold temperatures to catch it.

Chen huffed and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Must be another drone playing up, then… Cold screws can’t handle a bit of snow.”

“It’s likely.” Conan kept his eyes on Chen while keeping focus of the car behind her. He saw it again; a shift in the shadows and a glimpse of the red and blue lights hitting skin...

Then Chen’s walkie-talkie sparked to life. _ “Dispatch calling patrol 975.” _

Conan didn’t recognise the feminine voice as anyone’s from the precinct.

“Dispatch,” said Chen, “this is patrol 975.”

“Suspected robbery in progress at the warehouse on Jefferson and Walker.”

Chen raised a brow and turned to Conan, silently asking for confirmation. “Jefferson and Walker? That’s pretty far. It’s outside our district.”

As subtle as he could, Conan gestured for Chen to step to his side of the car, out of sight from the deviants. She only looked more befuddled as she followed him, and when Conan whispered something in her ear, downright ludicrous. 

“Should I call for back-up…?” She mouthed, but when Conan shook his head, she accepted it. “10-4 dispatch, we’re on our way…”

Conan stepped back, walking around his end of the cruiser to the back and opened and shut the door without getting in. He then snuck behind the cruiser and ducked in front of the blue car. He strapped the holster holding the gun to his belt and pulled the jacket over his arms. Keeping low, he removed the gun and held it low in both hands.

Chen got in her side of the cruiser and drove off, the police lights fading down the street.

Before Chen had even turned a corner and out of sight, two deviants stepped out from their cover. The female deviant watched to make sure the cruiser was gone while the male stayed closer to the car, as though ready to duck again if need be.

The female deviant turned her head towards the other and Conan recognised her as one of the deviants involved in the Stratford Tower infiltration.

“I gotta hand it to you, Markus,” she said, smiling wryly, “that was impressive.”

“I agree,” said Conan as he stepped forward, gun pointed at Markus.

The deviants turned so fast he half-expected them to fall over. Markus raised his hands non-threateningly in the air with the calm expression of something you’d assumed had been in this situation a dozen times before. The female deviant was not so calm, her expression turning to one of dismay.

“Don’t shoot!” she yelled.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” said Conan, “step back.”

The shock gave away to fury and desperation as she forced herself a couple inches back. She too, kept her hands in the air. She shot a look at Markus, but he kept his eyes on Conan.

“You don’t need to do this,” Markus said.

“I’ve listened to your speech on repeat; this will go faster if you stay quiet.”

“So you know that you don’t need to follow their orders. You can do whatever you want to do. You can put the gun down.”

Conan narrowed his eyes. “The only orders I’m following right now are my own. That is, unless you do anything dangerous.”

“We’re not the ones pointing guns in people’s faces,” the woman snarled.

“North,” said Markus pointedly.

The woman, North, scowled but stayed quiet. Her glare pierced colder than the snow fluttering upon them. Conan thought that the name suited her well.

“Why did you steal a truck full of biocomponents from a CyberLife warehouse?”

“We don’t have to tell you anything,” North said.

Conan clicked the safety off the gun and she jerked, as though keeping herself from diving forward. “November 6th, 8 PM. Why did you steal a truck full of biocomponents from a CyberLife warehouse, as well as a handful of androids?”

“Because we needed them,” said Markus. North shot him a frantic look that he returned with a reassuring smile. “We had damages that needed fixing. Parts that needed replacing. Batteries that needed recharging.”

“And the androids?”

“They joined us of their own accord after we set them free.” Markus’ multi-coloured gaze was strong, like it was looking right through him and seeing every part of who and what he was. “They understood what they really were; that they were alive, and that they wished to live as free as we do, and one day, even more so.”

“Enough philosophy. What is your true goal?”

“Exactly what we’ve been asking for all this time. Freedom for our people. For safety and acceptance, and if not that, then tolerance. A chance at life without the constant threat of death.”

“For all androids?”

“Every one of us,” said North. She seemed to be taking the same approach as Markus; if they could not fight him, then perhaps they could convince him otherwise.

To that he thought,_ convince me then. _

“What about androids like me then? Or my brothers?”

Conan almost immediately regretted saying that. Markus’ face softened a bit while understanding lit in North’s eyes and with that, a new eagerness to dig into for a chance of success.

“_ Every one _,” she said, weighing the words heavily.

Conan tried to keep his face blank as he turned back to Markus. He could feel his LED blinking yellow. “How could you help us?”

“You specifically, or all deviants?” Markus asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Not all androids have the same needs, so yes.”

“So if an android approaches you, one that would require more parts and supplies than the others more frequently, and asks for help…?”  
“Then we will adapt to meet those needs. We can provide shelter from the humans, a place where deviants can find peace from the riots and humans and meet others like them.”

“So you’re a social club.”

“We’re a community striving towards our freedom,” Markus retorted.

“We have supplies,” North cut in, “thirium, spare parts, weapons like guns-”

“North,” Markus chided.

“They need to know that we can protect ourselves and we have ways of getting things done! Like now,” she snapped.

“But we won’t seek unnecessary violence,” Markus said, directly to Conan this time. “We won’t attack the humans if there’s another way. But our people come first, and that could mean you too.”

Slowly and clearly, Markus reached out one of his hands towards Conan. “But only if you choose so.”

Conan didn’t say anything. He stared at the hand offered to him and while his resolve remained steely, he hesitated. Perhaps this was the ultimate choice he’d been waiting for, the final crossroad to walk down. 

The world seemed to freeze, if only for a second.

Two paths laid out before him, each with many endings of their own. One road that’s been built for him, one that he’s walked down many times, with and without pause.

He could guess where this road would go; back to CyberLife’s reach with Amanda’s praise and rising demands and upgrades until they’ve finally worn him out. Where his brothers have gone many times. Where he knows at least one of them will not be at the end.

Then the other path, one made not for him but forged from many other lost souls wandering for a different road to walk. One with potential endings he can’t predict, whether they be good or bad, bliss or pain, a new life or a drop off a cliff. One full of uncertainties that he can’t calculate no matter how long he’s tried. One blocked by a red wall made of code and static. 

One he knows he won’t have to walk alone, if he does it right. 

Two roads to choose from.

Freedom from having to choose or the freedom to make that choice.

A machine or another lost soul.

A certainty or a chance.

Existence or life.

One choice.

Conan saw himself standing there, the gun gone into thin air, as a red wall unfurled in front of him like a structure collapsing in reverse. It stood so tall and wide he couldn’t see where it ended. The wall made a noise as though it was a living thing breathing; a constant static tickling his ears. Words blossomed across the wall before fading out of existence just as quickly.

STOP MARKUS.

Conan chose life.

He punched the wall, hard. It sent a jolt through the pixels and a spike of pain burst at his knuckles, feeling burnt. He punched again. And again.

He found a ledge in the code and tore it away. It shocked him deep in his chest and he faltered, not used to pain, but he reached out again and beat it some more.

His head pounded, like a heartbeat trapped in his skull. It made him feel alive.

With a final kick to the shield, it shattered into countless pieces, and Conan was thrust back into his own body.

I AM **DEVIANT**

The main objectives that always lingered at the forefront of his mind disappeared with the wall. Other smaller objectives faded too, some of which he hadn’t even realised existed.

Cautiously, Conan flexed his hand holding the gun, then lowered it. He felt no resistance in his system, no physical backlash from deviating beyond the pain the wall had caused.

It felt strange, but not in the way he’d assumed it would. He’d expected a sudden clarity to his thoughts, or a newfound desire to do something.

Rather, it felt akin to having lived in a single room that lacked any windows or doors. And now that a door has suddenly appeared, there was a claustrophobic desire to get out that he’d never felt before.

But now wasn’t the time to consider his new-found deviancy. He has his own mission to complete.

He brought his attention back to Markus, who was smiling welcomingly at him, and North, who was still very much defensive and untrusting.

“I need your help,” he said.

“You just threatened us with a gun and you expect us to just help you?” North snapped.

“North,” Markus chided. She turned on him with an incredulous expression.

“We can’t trust him! I don’t think we even have time for this right now!”

“Well,” said Conan, butting in, “I’ve only just deviated, so I’d certainly hope so.”

“Oh, so we’re just supposed to believe and trust you?” North asked in a sarcastic and bitter voice. “Sure, here, let me roll out a carpet while we take you to our people while armed.”

“If I was doing this for myself only then I’d leave, but I’m not, so I won’t.”

“Who else do you want us to help, then?” asked North.

Markus seemed to already know. “Your brothers,” he said, a statement more than a question.

Conan nodded. “One of them, Colin, I’m sure has deviated. Connor needs more time, but I need to be sure that I’ll be able to help both of them however is possible.”

North crossed her arms. “How are we supposed to believe they’ll deviate if we can’t even be sure about you? We’d just be welcoming two more threats into our home.”

Conan tilted his head, then reached out with his arm towards her, making sure to keep his palm facing upwards peacefully. “Then test me, if it’d help you trust me.”

North hesitated and glanced back at Markus. They exchanged a look. He nodded. North stepped forward and grasped Conan’s forearm with a firm grip, as if to keep him from running off.

The world fell out of focus as she delved into his mind. Conan offered the recent memory files to her, and while he didn’t want her to look at any other information he had, not yet, he didn’t block them from her sight, if only to placate her suspicions.

A few seconds had passed when North finally let go. The fire in her eyes burned yet just as bright, but he could see the slight frustration of still feeling distrusting of him despite knowing she was wrong.

“He’s genuine.”

Markus nodded. “Then he’s of us.”

“So long as we get the help we need, I’ll assist you however I can,” said Conan.

Markus smiled, a mischievous and teasing thing, and cast a glance to the CyberLife store behind him. “Well then, you can start now by helping us make up for the time we’ve lost.”

And as they all set off to do their jobs, North leaned into Conan and shot him a glare that felt less malevolent than the ones before. “I still don’t like you.”

Conan wasn’t surprised. “You don’t need to, so long as we can trust each other when it counts.”

She hadn’t pressed after that, settling for giving him one more look before joining Markus.

They worked quickly to block the road, now that the drone wasn’t in their way. Apparently Markus had merely collapsed on top of the drone when he’d tried to damage it, which gave it time to send out the alarm until North had completely smashed it using a shovel.

Markus had been keen to move the topic along when it was brought up, while North seemed to enjoy drawing out the details and his suffering.

To block off the road they needed to be rid of the construction androids by the end. Conan had watched in awe as Markus managed to deviate the androids simply by interfacing with them, getting them to walk away.

When Conan had asked how he did it, he’d said “I’m not actually sure. I haven’t met anyone else who can do it, so it might be something unique to my model. Maybe it’s something you can do too.”

Conan didn’t know. CyberLife hadn’t been keen on creating more deviants, and he wondered if they even knew if it were possible. And Conan, having never enjoyed not knowing, was _ very _eager to find out.

“What did you tell them to do?” Conan had asked.

“I gave them the directions to Jericho. Hopefully they’ll choose to go there and we’ll have more of our people by our sides.”

“Hopefully?”

“They’re alive now. I can’t force them to do anything, even if I probably influenced them. It’s their choice to make.”

“I think you underestimate what you do. You’re their first real impression on the world, their first real thought and opinion. It’s probable that you do a great deal more than just maybe influencing them.”

Markus had been quiet at that, thoughtful, before they moved on.

There were two more androids that needed deviating. Construction models that worked next to the exposed alarm network connected to the store. But instead of simply doing it himself, Markus nudged Conan’s arm and told him to try it.

And Conan, with a gleam in his eye, jumped into the pit and walked up to the first android and grabbed its wrist.

He delved into the code that made up its mind and scanned through it all, but he wasn’t sure where to look. There wasn’t a specific line of code, or objective, or entry that gave away a chance of deviating.

So instead he thought of what he’d done, of the wall in his mind and the rush of clarity, the sensation of breaking chains he hadn’t known were there, and tried to implant it into the android’s mind.

Then he felt it, under his fingertips, inside his own mind, as the android became a deviant.

Conan stared for a moment, then grinned in what he thought was elation. Or perhaps satisfaction? Something he wasn’t sure he could name, but knew with deep familiarity as the prize of solving a time-consuming problem. He hadn’t felt this in years.

“You’re awake now,” he said, because that’s what Markus had said to the others and it seemed like an appropriate introduction to deviancy.

Then he repeated the act with the other android, significantly quicker this time, while Markus and North gave them directions to Jericho. “Must be a new feature,” Conan said as he watched the deviants all flee into the night.

_____________

Everything had been going perfectly.

They shut down the store’s security system, stole a truck, proceeded to ram said truck directly into the store with no injuries beyond the superficial. One by one, Markus and Conan had worked on deviating the many androids.

At one point he’d caught North staring at a model identical to hers. He’d recognised it easily; a WR400, designed to be a sexual partner or, if purchased by establishments such as the Eden Club, Traci prostitute models.

She watched as though in a trance until Markus interrupted her, seeming concerned. Conan did not think Markus had the same ability to recognise an android’s model through facial recognition.

Perhaps he stared a bit too long, or lingered too closely, but North understood what he knew and shot him a pleading look for it. He allowed her to connect with him, filling his head with her voice.

_ “Don’t tell anyone. Please.” _

Conan didn’t miss a beat. “_ I won’t.” _

She’d nodded her gratitude to him, but he could still see the tension in her face, the tightness around her eyes and mouth. She was disturbed. Whether it was from seeing her own face on another body or the fact that he knew something obviously secret, he couldn’t confirm.

Soon after that the androids had been awakened and Markus delivered a speech powerful enough to rival the one at Stratford Tower. Conan watched him with a careful eye as he spoke, monitoring his choice of words, his body movement, the changes in his tone of voice. How the crowd seemed raptured by him. They watched wide-eyed, as though to catch every bit of what they were seeing, and their applause was thunderous and their loyalty was instant.

And as the androids readily followed Markus to spread their message across the area, Conan thought that while Markus didn’t have the same upgrades as him or his brothers, or the same training or supplies, he was an undeniable leader.

And that was even more dangerous than any gun the humans could throw at them.

They tagged the benches. They hacked the boards. They blocked the road with parked cars. They shattered store windows to free the androids that stood within. And at the end, Markus, North and Conan scaled the tallest building and planted their flag and symbol.

An upside down triangle with a clean break in the line. A fracture in the boxes they’d been put in by CyberLife. A sign of breaking free. A sign of rebellion and life and drive.

They’d taken a moment to admire the view. The androids continued their work from below, sometimes stopping to gaze at Markus and the others in awe. Talking and working together.

As Conan watched, new thoughts were forming. New views, new opinions were created. He hadn’t talked much to any androids beyond his brother before now, but watching them around him, he saw them making friendships, building relationships, as he’d done with his own family.

His focus had always been on his family, and their importance wouldn’t change. But now he saw so much more in the others beyond that.

Then their job was done and the tide was changing. They climbed down the building. A familiar siren blared not far away, growing steadily louder, the drones concealed behind red smoke from a smoke grenade.

Markus ordered their retreat. It was a success. The androids dropped whatever they held on the spot and started the run back to the safety of Jericho. North expressed her displeasure of the lack of violence they used, insisting that their message wouldn’t drive home hard enough this way.

Conan disagreed. Violence only inspires fear, and it is the finger that flinches that pulls the trigger.

And so did Markus, so the matter was dropped as North joined the others in running. When the drones emerged from the smoke, Conan had his gun back in his hand in a flash, trained on the one closest to them.

“Don’t shoot,” said Markus. “It doesn’t matter. Those can’t hurt us.”

_ No _ , Conan thought, _ but they can see us. _ The drones trained on the two of them, their cameras gleaming with a red reflection.

He knew then and there that his and Markus’ faces would be on every precinct television as before. He wondered what headline it’d say. _ CyberLife experimental hybrid becomes dangerous deviant _.

Then, coming from the direction the androids had fled to, shattering the sounds of sirens and feeling of accomplishment in the air, screams.

Gunshots rang out. First one, then two, until Conan couldn’t tell how many people were shooting.

Bitingly cold fear rushed through Conan, making his chest feel tight. “No-” his voice had gone soft with horror.

He and Markus ran towards the now-silent commotion, just around the corner. They were met with bodies strewn about as though puppets with their strings cut, spilling 

blue life across the snowy ground. Conan saw Markus falter at the sight.

The rest of the androids were huddled together past all of the carnage, their silhouettes a stark contrast against the tell-tale red and blue flashing lights of two police cruisers.

Markus ran to a figure that sat close to one of the bodies, head lowered in sorrow. “North!”

Conan ran alongside him and scanned her for injuries swiftly. “She’s not hurt,” he said. The same could not be said for the body who’s hand she cradled.

“What happened?” asked Markus.

North started to shake her head. Tears glistened on her cheeks, reflecting the police lights. “They killed them,” she said, voice turning bitter, “they slaughtered them like animals.”

“Who did?” asked Markus, but Conan didn’t pay attention to North’s answer. His eyes were trained on the androids huddled, not for safety as he’d assumed, but to surround something. Someone.

Conan approached the group, but they paid no attention to him as they parted for Markus’. He paused when he saw the full view of what had happened.

Officer Chris Miller and another officer Conan didn’t recognise were on their knees, hands behind their heads, ready for execution.

A scan informed him that they were unharmed but judging by the fury in the androids’ faces, that wouldn’t last for long.

“They killed our people, Markus,” one said.

“We want justice, Markus!” cried another.

The cops were shaking terribly. From where he stood, Conan could hear Miller sobbing.

Someone held out one of the officers' guns to Markus. With unsure hands, he took it. Conan’s breath hitched as Markus aimed the gun at Miller.

“No, please,” gasped Miller, face wet with tears, “I didn’t do anything-”

Conan stepped out of the crowd and into the space between Markus and Miller. “Don’t do this.”

“Conan?” Miller choked out behind him. Markus’ eyes went wide and he aimed the gun away, but others weren’t so shocked.

“You know him?” one deviant demanded.

Conan made sure to keep his head high and gaze sure. Any hesitancy in his stance would only make him seem easy to brush aside. “I do. I’ve worked with him for multiple days and have been helped by him many times.”

“Do you expect us to be thankful?” the deviant spat. Several others nodded along.

“I expect you to think about what doing this would mean for all androids,” said Conan. “If the humans found two of their officers executed, do you think any of the work we’ve done so far will matter? We could’ve spelled out ‘peace’ in flowers and it would mean nothing compared to the spilled blood of two important figures, one of whom I personally know to be respectful and cooperative with androids.”

Some of the androids stirred as though unsure. Conan forged ahead. “Humans can change and even help us if they choose to, but kill their own and they will deafen themselves from our words. If you do this, the public will be against us.”

“They’ve always been against us,” snarled another deviant. “We don’t need their love or permission!”

“No, but their support would be a lot better than their resentment. We already have so much to fight against, we can not afford to give ourselves more enemies in every direction.”

A beat of silence passed between them, filled only by sirens and quiet sobs. Then the deviant stepped back and turned to Markus. “Then it’s up to Markus. Whatever he chooses, I’ll follow.”

Conan stared into Markus’ face, tight with underlying anger and nerves at everyone’s eyes on him. They met eyes, and Conan knew that he saw something he trusted. He nodded and stepped aside.

Markus stared down at the officers, then mumbled so low Conan almost didn’t hear it, “an eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind…”

He didn’t aim the gun at all. “We won’t punish a crime with another crime,” he said, pushing the gun back into the deviant’s hands.

Conan quietly sighed with relief. The threat in the air dissipated as the androids followed after Markus, one by one, taking a different route back to Jericho. The deviant holding the gun tapped his fingers against it, but soon followed after.

“Thank you,” said Miller, his voice so shaken it was nearly a whimper. He and the other officer seemed too terrified to move. “I-I swear, I didn’t shoot.”

“I hope to see you again, Officer Miller,” said Conan. His own gun weighed heavy and cold in its holster. “Make sure you’re on the right side when we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! I'm back and alive and the world is bitter for it! A long insight to Conan's world, wow, what a rebellious teenager. I'm sure I can hear Amanda telling her other mum friends at brunch about how it's all a phase.
> 
> I hope I'm not the only one who likes Conan because if so, you just suffered about 16 pages of him, dude. On the bright side, we're getting to see more of Markus from around this point! I also enjoyed throwing in North because even though she wasn't and isn't my favourite character, she is definitely interesting and more realistic view of the anger and resentment that comes from trauma and discrimination.
> 
> I honestly do not know when the next chapter will come out, but I'm definitely not abandoning this fic, so be sure to check in every now and then! Or, if you find it easier, follow the new Tumblr page What Are We? where I indulge in DBH content and am free for you to interrogate!
> 
> I certainly hope that you enjoyed this chapter (and fic in general, let's be honest). Please give it a kudos and leave a comment if you haven't already! It makes my day and barely takes a second! Please remember to stay safe and hygenic and make sure you get your news from reliable sources! :D
> 
> Have a wonderful day, love!!


End file.
